Your Biggest Fan
by OfTheDamned
Summary: Throughout high school, the shy and over-burdened Edward Masen threw himself into work and raising his baby sister. He's always felt lucky just to be friends with track star Jasper Cullen. Now, he doesn't know if just friends is enough. AH AU Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Anything Twilightish belongs to Stephenie Meyer. **

* * *

Sometimes, I close my eyes when I run.

None of that walking into traffic without looking crap, just when I'm plodding along a sidewalk minding my own business.

When I can't see the street signs or the subtle changes from one over-manicured lawn to the next, there is nothing to mark my pace. Timeless, effortless running leaves me feeling…strangely powerful, or super-charged, like I am moving faster than the human eye could see. At that speed, I can outrun anything. Everything. All the things that startle me awake at dawn's first light with my heart pounding and my hairline damp. The circumstances my mind races over until I finally remember that they are immovable and permanent; impervious to the solutions my sleep-fogged brain can devise. All those waking terrors – I leave them all at the starting line.

Running isn't just my own personal escape portal, though. It sounds melodramatic to call it my salvation, because I know better than to pin all my hopes on something as fickle as my body – and besides, what I'd like to be saved from has already happened.

Okay, so not my salvation. But, still. I figure, I'm almost eighteen. Teens all around me are ripping their pictures off the walls, taking one last look at the childhood home that nurtured and protected them, and heading resolutely in the opposite direction. I want that too. Plus, let's be honest, my Dad's house stopped giving me the warm and fuzzies years ago. Three and a half years ago, if we're gonna get technical.

I always made sure my report card read a nice, monotonous AAAAAA, because Mom had always said I should, and now attending her alma mater seemed like the proper homage. I knew that just impressing my teachers wasn't enough, though. The other seniors I was up against to get into such a prestigious school were annoyingly well-rounded over-achievers. Each of them was probably halfway to owning their own startup company by now. I could never claim to be anywhere near that successful… but I could run.

In reality, I only run a 6:42 mile, and the tethered dogs in the yards near Forks High have made it quite cacophonously clear that I don't pass their lawns nearly fast enough. Every damn day.

Maybe I should carry biscuits in my pocket or something.

Regardless, I knew my mile time was abysmal, but it didn't matter. I was a sprinter, a dasher. Anything under five hundred meters and I was golden. No one kicked up dirt like me.

As the Forks High flagpole came into view, I neared my least favorite part of being on track. If running was a reprieve from my own personal demons, then slowing to a halt was like holding out my knuckles, knowing they were about to be smacked with a ruler. The anticipation alone was painful.

I ran up the service road towards the gym, where we met after long runs, half-blinded by thoughts of life off the track.

There was so much to consider, and so much to get done. I heaved a sigh as I ran through the open doors of the Forks High Gym, allowing the pounding of my feet to gradually slow until I reached a stop in the center of the basketball court. My future, both in the short- and long-term sense, was something I worried about a great deal. Now that my feet were no longer moving I could practically feel the anxiety nestling in the crevices of my brain to be brought to the surface with any passing thought. I tried to push it aside, though, and looked towards the high-arched entrance to the men's locker room.

There he was. I took another deep breath and the air felt cleaner, more rejuvenating. The sight of the boy (or man, almost) standing there instantly soothed the tension beginning to clench my shoulders. Tall and confident, he was leaning in the doorway like a cowboy in an old time shoot-em-up movie leans against the saloon entrance: one leg bent against the door jamb and a hand sweeping through his sweaty, tangled hair.

I grinned, despite myself. If I couldn't run forever, at least I could come back to this. To him. To Jasper Cullen.

I trotted towards him and called, "Hey Jas. Waiting long?"

He rolled his eyes, but grinned back. As an endurance runner, he had undoubtedly finished several minutes before I had even gotten a returning glimpse of the high school. His breathing wasn't even labored anymore.

"I grabbed our drinks." He tossed me one of the Powerades we'd stashed in our lockers before training.

I nodded, twisted it open and let it run thankfully down my throat. We headed to the showers in silence. Once there, I sat on a bench in the row of lockers that held mine, letting myself cool down a bit more before stripping and entering the communal showers.

Tyler was already rinsing out his hair and Jasper was just starting his shower, testing the water temperature with an outstretched hand. I kept my eyes above shoulder level to avoid any awkwardness. It's not like I wanted to look down but there was always that curiosity.

His? Mine? Comparisons? You know.

We tended not to talk in the showers, so when I finished my shower first I headed back to my locker. I pulled out a pair of dark denim jeans and the light grey t-shirt I had worn to school that morning. Sitting on the bench, I finished lacing up my shoes and zipped up my bag. Without any mindless tasks at hand, I simply stayed on the bench, waiting for Jasper to finish up as well. Of course, as I waited, my mind wandered.

Thoughts bubbled up before me, unnoticed until they were demanding my attention, as if rising up from a murky swamp. The pressure of college apps. The questionable tenacity of my familial bond to my father. The desire to desert this dreary town where I had tried and failed to be happy, and the guilt of leaving Ali behind.

A hand clasped my shoulder from behind and I jumped under it, startled.

"Hey, man. Relax."

Jasper stepped over the bench, still wrapped in a towel from the waist down, but left his hand on my shoulder. He pushed me back casually to study my face. I'm not sure what he saw there – probably the typical me, tight-lipped and furrow-browed. Whatever he saw, his eyes softened and he gave me a reassuring smile.

And then, he said the one sentence that had started this beautiful friendship in the first place, more than three years ago.

"You know, Edward, you don't have to go home if you don't want to."

* * *

**Alright, there's the beginning. I'm new to writing fics, so let me know what you guys think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Alrighty. Everything Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, but I may have some different plans in mind for them...**

**

* * *

  
**

We laid on our stomachs on Jasper's bedroom floor, our laptops before us.

I groaned, "I don't know!" and smacked the lid of my computer closed, with maybe a bit too much force, before rolling onto my back to let out a sigh. Like most things that mattered, the idea of applying to college had my logical thoughts worked into a frenzy.

"One essay." I ranted to the ceiling. "That's all I get. How will one page convince the application committee that I'm better than everyone else applying? " Key phrases from the pre-college meeting with my guidance counselor flitted through my head. Motivated. Leadership-oriented. Well-rounded. Well-angular. What the fuck did that even mean?

Out of my peripheral vision I saw Jasper, true to form, shrug.

I turned my head slowly, in my ire, to stare at him. "This is important, man. College decides the rest of our lives."

Again he shrugged that calm, imperturbable shrug. I hated it. I hated it because it was his answer to everything. Because it came so easily to him. Because he could stare at five hundred words that would decide the rest of his life and just fucking shrug.

And I couldn't.

I turned my gaze back to the smooth, white expanse of ceiling and listened to him press the keys at an even, measured pace. Even his soul-searching was methodical, seeming to take no effort at all. I sighed more loudly.

But, no, I shouldn't take my aggravation out on him. I was probably lucky we were still friends, what with my spazoid tendencies. Usually, I was a pretty quiet guy. Minded my own business, spoke when spoken to, blabbity blah blah. Around Jas, though, my stream of consciousness jumped the tracks before reaching my brain and just came straight out of my mouth. It was like for every word I wished he'd say, I said two.

No surprise there, though. We'd always been polar opposites. Where he was self-assured, helpful and relaxed, I was anxious, awkward and, if I'm being honest, a little anal-retentive. Looking at Jasper he just seemed… bright. Calm and happy, with eyes the same blue shade as nearly-transparent glacier ice and wavy blonde hair that caught the sun. In comparison, I was sure I seemed somber. I often had to remind myself to smile back at people, my brown/red/who-the-hell-knows hair clashed with my dark green eyes, and when people thought of Edward Masen, they sure as shit didn't think of me in a sunny way.

Then again, if he didn't fault me for my flaws, I certainly couldn't fault him his perfection.

"Hey." That smooth voice broke my daze. "You're doin' it again," he said softly.

I gave him an apologetic glance. "Sorry."

"Look, Edward." He pushed off with his hands to sit up beside me. "We all know how this is gonna go down. You apply early to Princeton, I apply early to Cornell, and then we ride out the rest of the school year on a breeze. But first we have to write an essay, so we'll just do it and not look back, kay?"

Oh, well, obviously. When he put it like that.

I nodded and tried to smile and mean it because, really, I knew he was just appeasing my inner freak-out champion, and I was grateful for it. I was equally grateful that I was crashing at the Cullen's. Jasper had long since figured out that when I was all stressed out, going home was the last thing I should do.

"Yeah, okay."

He placed his palm on my chest to push himself off the ground, effectively knocking all the air out of me. I let out an airless groan and curled up into my tried and true dead-bug defensive position, but he was already across the room digging out a blanket for me.

While he did that, I stepped into the hardwood hallway of the Cullen house – mansion, whatever – and pulled out my phone. Ali was speed dial two.

"Hey Teddy."

"Hey," I answered, trying to keep my voice low so none of the Cullens would hear me. "You going home tonight?"

She sighed a little sigh, the one that was halfway between avoidance and defeat. The one that reminded me she was my little baby sister and needed someone to look out for her.

"It's okay if you're not," I said quickly. "I'm not. I'm staying at Jasper's again."

"Yeah," she hedged. "Bella already pulled out a sleeping bag for me. Do you think he'll mind if neither one of us comes home?"

"I'll call him. And if he's pissed, I can always drive back," I offered.

"Okay. Thanks." She perked up a bit, back into the chirpy Alice most people knew and loved. "See you at school?"

"Yup."

"Okay, love you."

"Love you too."

That just left the phone call to Dad. I let it ring six times. Then I hung up, and called again. Still, no one answered, so when it finally went to voicemail I figured that was as good as anything.

"Hey, Dad. I'm just calling to tell you that I'm staying at Jasper's tonight, and the Swan's invited Alice to stay over. We both have our cells." I paused with my thumb over the red button before pushing the phone back to my ear and saying, "This is Edward, by the way."

I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket before turning back into Jasper's room. As I crossed the threshold, my senses were immediately affronted. With a whooshing smack to my face, my vision whited out and I couldn't breathe through my nose or mouth. Then, quickly as it had come, the barrier slipped away and I was left with a view of an eyebrow-waggling Jasper with a thick down pillow in his hand.

Ah. The manliest way of all to deal with foul moods: physical assault. Unfortunately for Jasper, I was just as tall and strong as him, so he had no leverage here.

With a quick glance around the room, I spotted another pillow on his bed. He must have been holding the one he got for me. I faked to my right before darting toward his bed and ran across it, heedless of my socked feet on his covers, and grabbed my fluffy weapon with a victorious laugh. He approached me slowly, circling around the bed frame until it was between us. We both stood poised, waiting for a slip in the other's attention, pillows at the ready.

"Boys."

Both our heads snapped towards the door to see Jasper's mom. The only difference was that Jasper chucked his pillow as he did so that it knocked me upside the head with a rather anticlimactic 'poof'. I tore my eyes from Esme just long enough to launch mine at the back of Jasper's head, which it hit before sliding noiselessly to the carpet at his feet.

Esme had caught us 'roughhousing', as she called it, too many times to be surprised, so instead she just clucked and turned her eyes to her son.

"Jas, honey, your father is trying to sleep. Can you two quiet down and make your way towards bed?"

He nodded, but didn't drop the ear-to-ear grin that made me wonder if I should sleep in a different room. With the door locked.

When Esme looked at me her eyes were softer, kinder. "Do you have everything you need, Edward dear?"

A quick look at the couch in the corner of Jasper's room confirmed that his weapon of choice had come from my makeshift bed. There were already sheets and blankets laid out on the cushions.

I nodded. "Yes, thank you Esme."

"Alright, you boys sleep well." She quietly let the door click shut behind her.

I eyed Jas warily, just as he eyed me, but we managed to slip off to bed without further incident. I swapped out my contacts for glasses, we brushed our teeth and Jasper clicked off the lights before we shed down to our boxers and slipped under our respective covers.

The moon shone in through a huge picture window that nearly took up an entire wall, and lit up the room enough to make finding my bearings easier.

"So." Jasper's voice meandered through the darkness, quiet and unobtrusive. "Alice isn't going home either?"

He'd heard that, huh? I grunted out a negative.

"Do you want to swing by in the morning to put in some face time before school?"

That caught me slightly off guard. While he had never said so – because, of course, he wouldn't – I was pretty sure Jasper felt uncomfortable at my house. Hanging out at his place was the standard, and he rarely offered to change that. I'd always been glad of that too, because it meant I didn't have to make up excuses to keep him away.

"Uh. No. That'd just raise more questions. But… thanks."

There was a brief silence. Maybe he was just nodding in acknowledgement.

"Night, Edward."

"Night."

Morning in the Cullen house came quietly, starting with a gentle knock from Esme and a "Boys? Time to get up!" through the door. Unfortunately, it ended with Jasper's sister being a royal pain in the ass.

She was sitting at the center island in the kitchen, nibbling at a piece of whole wheat toast. Her long, straight blond hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail that made me think only of the word 'efficiency', and she was glaring at me. When my eyes met her, she snapped her view to Jasper and said loudly, "I'm not driving you two to school."

I paused midstride at the inanity of her declaration, but momentarily continued toward the cereal boxes.

"We didn't ask for one, Rose," Jasper said calmly. "Edward has his car."

I always had my car.

Rose perked up in her seat. "Exactly, and when that tin wagon rusts solid at a stoplight, I'm not driving you the rest of the way."

Ignoring. This is me ignoring. See the grace with which I ignore her rude, skinny, meddling ass. When I placed the milk carton back into the fridge, I noticed the dents on either side looked shockingly like my handprint.

I didn't face her to acknowledge her impressive ability to ruin my day before it had even begun, but I pictured her in my mind's eye. It wasn't hard to see her as Jasper must have seen her in that exact moment. Tall, confident and haughty, with silky hair and eyes just a slightly less shocking blue than his own. She was wearing a light purple camisole with a deep V that did nothing to merely 'hint' at her attention-capturing breasts. Then again, I highly doubted Jasper wanted to acknowledge that his little sister was a Bond-girl in the making.

Intelligent and successful, she was technically every bit as perfect as Jasper. It was as if the Good Fairy of Social Inequality had come to Forks and blessed Esme's womb, saying, "Thine children shall be beautiful and praiseworthy, never burdened by the curse of self-doubt," just so all the other resident teenagers had someone to feel self-conscious next to.

"Rose, when will you remember that your opinions on cars don't mean squat?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her huff and turn on her stool to look out the curtained kitchen window at her newest favorite toy: a deep red Corvette. It wasn't her preferred car, a fact she had made widely known, but as her first set of wheels from Mom and Dad Cullen for her recent sixteenth birthday, she was ready to sing its praises to anyone foolish enough to ask. Or not ask.

I had been speed-eating and so with a nod from Jasper, he grabbed a Cliff Bar and our lunches, and we were out the door. Good riddance.

I never really spoke to Rosalie, directly, and I certainly didn't want to stir up shit in the Cullen family, but she had to know the distaste was mutual. She had to. I just… wasn't entirely sure why it was there in the first place. Carlisle had once explained that being a teenage girl was an incredibly taxing experience that often took someone's worst qualities and projected them onto everyone else until the threat of pimples and parental groundings had passed. He had explained in (overdrawn) detail the hormonal and mental change taking place, but Jasper had later said his dad's explanation was just a drawn out euphemism for the word Bitch.

My dad's wheezing 1993 Volvo managed not to accumulate too much rust on the drive to Forks High, and we were soon walking leisurely to our first class. People waved to us but, as I assumed the attention was mostly for Jasper, I merely nodded back.

"Hey guys."

Jessica Stanley suddenly popped into my line of sight. She had light brown curly hair, a penchant for flowery skirts and a profile that spoke of her Jewish ancestry. She was genuinely good spirited though, so I smiled back at her.

"Hey."

"I hear you guys are racing the Quileutes this weekend."

Jasper nodded.

"I'm trying to convince Coach Clapp to let the Cheer Squad come. Maybe if some of you guys mentioned that it would be nice?" She tilted her head to the side, looking hopeful but somewhat helpless. "Please? We never cheer for track, and I know you guys are pretty good and all, so it's pretty bad school spirit of us to never show. I wanna show those Wolves who they're dealing with."

Ahhh, the truth comes out. Forks and the Quileute Wolves had an ongoing rivalry in baseball, and I guessed Jessica wanted to broaden our intimidation tactics.

Cheer had never bothered to show up for track before but, I shrugged, whatever.

"Sure, Jess."

"Thanks Jasper." She looked directly at him and gave him that smile that all the girls seemed to be throwing at him these days – wide eyed and hopeful – before rushing off to whatever her first class was.

Jasper tossed me a glance, so I shrugged again. He shrugged back, and we let it go. AP Lit, here we come.

Teachers and lectures came and went and, soon enough, I spotted Alice bounding across the quad, trailing her backpack and wailing, "Guess what, Edward! Edward! Guess what!"

When she skidded up to me, I placed my hands firmly on her shoulders and pressed her down into the earth, lest she achieve escape velocity.

"Guess what, Edward, what?" I asked calmly.

Bella, her shy but compassionate best friend slid up behind her as she resumed bouncing under the pressure of my hands and took one lung-bursting gulp of air.

"Forks Drama! They're doing a play! And there's auditions and it's Shakespeare and Bella said maybe I should and they're doing Midsummer Night's Dream and there's Puck and I could be him!" She was waving her hands wildly, uninhibited by my purposely-blank stare. It wouldn't do to laugh in her face, especially when she was so clearly into the idea. One thing to say for Alice, she never did anything half-assed. "He's tiny," she continued. "And mischievous! And I think I'm gonna try out, and I just might be able to pull it off and auditions are today and I'm really excited. I just have to learn some lines!"

Bella had one hand over her mouth behind Alice, trying not to giggle audibly while she whispered, "Alice, breathe."

Jasper, on the other hand, had completely lost any sense of composure. He had turned away to spare her, but the tremors of his back gave away his laughter.

Alice, of course, stamped her foot into the ground and began talking even faster. "It's not funny! I could get it, I know it. Don't you think I could? Teddy?" Her eyes were on me, hard and fast. Petite as she was, she was practically staring vertically into the (cloud-hidden) sun above me to deliver her menacing stare. I couldn't even take the time to remind her about childish nicknames in public because it was clear that one answer, only one, was acceptable.

"Of course Ali. We, uh," I glanced at Bella, hoping for some clue on how important this was. "We didn't know you were considering drama. But of course, you're a natural for Puck."

And she was. Energetic, check. Tiny and troublesome, check. Comfortable under the weighty stares of the entire Forks High student body, double check.

I tried to picture her up on a stage. Her hair was identical to mine, a rich cherrywood with a hint of red that would be just visible under the stage lights. Our mom's hair had been the most mesmerizing shade of bronze, but Dad's straight dirt-brown coloring had muted it for us. We both bore the distinct shade of green her eyes had been though, like moss on the poorly lit side of forest trees, and those too would give Alice a striking appearance on stage. Her hair was long and wispy around her face, also like Mom's had been, and I wondered if she'd have to cut it to play a sprite.

Jasper finally turned around beside me, trying to pass his grin off as encouragement. "Good luck, Alice."

She threw her hands up in the air, giving him a forlorn look. "Ughh! No, you have to say break a leg!"

"Break a leg," I said compliantly, and managed to hold back my laughter until Alice had grabbed Bella's hand and was dragging her towards the library, no doubt in search of some Shakespeare to memorize.

Jasper and I turned to head towards the lunch tables, needing the cover to shelter us from the impending afternoon storm.

He shook his head, still laughing. "She is so much like you, it's ridiculous."

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. Was he kidding? "Seriously, man?"

He raised an eyebrow right back, as if wondering why I was even questioning him.

"How can you say that? Alice is…" I mimicked her by waving my hands frantically around my head, and wondered what the most polite way to say 'a chaotic mess' was. "She's like a Tasmanian devil, spinning furiously until she's gotten what she wants. She gets an idea in her head and won't ever let it go, like it's the new most important thing in the world."

He nodded. "Exactly."

Exactly? How could he say that?

By this point, Jas and I had reached our usual table and were pulling sandwiches out of the brown paper bags Esme had written our names on. But I just couldn't let this drop.

"Alice is like a miniature force of nature, indestructible and bending the world to her will. Nothing is ever the same after she gets there." I shook my head at the thought. I loved her, and wouldn't have her any other way, but I could never be like her. Ever. I barreled ahead to prove this to Jasper. "I'd rather just do my own thing and stay out of people's hair. I could never make a scene or draw attention like she does. Jeez, Jasper. You know me." I tapped my own chest emphatically. "I am never as loud and destructive as she is. I'm the quiet one."

Jasper, the bastard, was laughing again and put up a hand to stop me. "What?" I ground out, annoyed.

"Well," he grinned a toothy but mesmerizing grin. "If you're done _ranting_ about how low-key and quiet you are…" He paused. "Breathe, Edward."

I realized I hadn't taken another breath after my long-winded bout of self defense, and did as he said. It was a reminder I seemed to need frequently around him.

Just like Bella reminded Alice.

Oh.

I felt my ears turn red under his pointed stare, and focused my attention on the sandwich I was currently ripping the crust off of. "Yeah, well," I mumbled. "That's just around you."

"I know," he said quietly. Almost… gently. "But I like it."

That caught me off guard, and I quickly looked up to study his face. It revealed nothing but his serene nature and sincerity. "What? Like having a spaz for a best friend?"

He held my gaze as he answered, "No. That there's this whole other Edward Masen that only hangs out with me."

I blinked at the thought. A whole part of me only for Jas. The idea didn't seem as foreign as I thought it might. When I thought of the two of us together, just lounging in his room, I certainly didn't feel like the moody, sullen boy I tended to be at school. I felt… safe, and content. Free to let out my anxieties and worries. And loved.

I gave my head a quick shake. Sure, I decided, that was another side of me, but I didn't need to dwell too meticulously on the differences.

"Anyway," he spoke up loudly, all calm and casual again. "I heard from Mike in History that practice will be easy today."

"Good. He's been working our asses for the Wolves meet. I could use a break."

Jasper began chatting easily about the other endurance runners at La Push High, and who would be the hardest to beat.

I felt fairly confident that whoever Jasper was supposed to be worried about, he would approach them with good sportsmanship for a fair race, and then promptly leave their ass in the dust.

Even voicing his concerns over the competition, he exuded an air of tranquility and success. Jasper's personal bubble must be a wonderful place to spend time, I decided.

As that thought evolved, I was struck with an urge to get as far into that personal bubble as I could. I didn't know how – I practically lived at his house, how much closer could I get? – but it suddenly felt very obvious to me that the closer I could get to Jasper Cullen, the happier I would be.

* * *

**Ok, I know most slash fics are basically smut. And I'm not saying Edward doesn't like lemons, I'm just saying he has to work for them, ya know?**

**Reviews give me the courage to keep writing!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

I dropped by the auditorium on my way to track practice to see if I could catch Alice. By the time I made my way there, though, she was already pacing to the left of the stage and mumbling in a metered fashion to herself. I spotted Bella waiting patiently for her against the back wall of the massive space, so I quietly sidled up beside her.

I bent at the waist and whispered so as not to disturb the aspiring actors. "Hey Bella."

She startled, letting out a squeak and whipping her head around to face me. Her signature flush hit only moments later, but she and Alice had been friends since nearly the day we moved here four years ago, so I had known to expect it.

I waited amicably for it to subside before asking, "So. This was your idea?"

She nodded, swallowing down her embarrassment before adding, "I thought it would be good for Alice to have…" she waved noncommittally at the stage, "an outlet. For, you know…"

I chuckled quietly and leaned against the wall beside her because I did, indeed, know. "You're a good friend." She didn't answer, but instead dropped her eyes to the ground with a faint blush, so I changed the subject. "I didn't think they usually cast freshmen?"

"Yeah. Freshmen are sorta the exception, not the rule. But then again, Alice is usually the exception to things."

I nodded again, but remained quiet when I saw Alice take a step onto the stage. It was hard to hear her from such a distance, but she looked enthusiastic and committed – certainly better than I could have done.

Within a minute the director, a teacher I had never bothered to get to know, seemed to thank her and dismiss her. Alice skipped down the center aisle, practically vibrating. When she saw me, her skipping sped up to almost a run.

"I didn't know you were watching!"

I grinned down at her and raised my hand to ruffle her hair, but she successfully ducked to safety.

"Oh, come on. What if this is the start of a long and promising career? I have to be able to say I was there at the very start."

She returned my grin with a wink and said quietly, "I'd have let you say it anyway."

She wasn't fast enough to thwart my second attempt, and this time my hand left her hair thoroughly mussed.

"Teddy!" she whined.

"Shh!" called the director from the front of the room.

We bashfully snuck out the side exit of the great hall – well, except Alice, whom I wasn't sure had ever been bashful a day in her life.

By that point, I didn't need to check my cell phone to know I was running behind schedule. "I gotta get to the locker rooms. Are you staying at Bella's again tonight?"

For confirmation I looked to Alice, who looked at Bella, who in turn looked back at Alice.

"What? Ali, you know you're always welcome. I stopped putting away the sleeping bag years ago." She waved a hand dismissively.

Alice turned back to me. "Okay, then. Yeah, I am. Why?"

I didn't bother dropping my voice. "I figured at least one of us should go home tonight."

"Oh." She glanced surreptitiously at Bella. "I don't have to—"

I cut her off. "Don't sweat it, Teeny. I was just checking so I could, you know, plan what I'm doing tonight."

"You do love your planning."

I just rolled my eyes at her jab. Yes, I was the anal-retentive in the family. Yes, I insisted on knowing where everyone was sleeping. Ali was fourteen for god's sake, someone in her family should know where she spent her nights.

"Anyway, you girls have fun."

Alice wrapped her arms around my chest and gave me a quick squeeze, which I returned. With a short nod to Bella, I was off.

I hurried to the locker rooms, but not without a backwards glance. Looking at them, they seemed an unlikely pair – Bella in her faded jeans and grey knit sweater and Alice in a striking mess of blues and greens – but I knew they were inseparable.

It was nice not to have to worry about Alice, about where she was sleeping when she didn't come home or if she was overstaying her welcome somewhere. Charlie Swan had practically adopted Alice as one of his own, just as the Cullens had taken me in. Despite his law-enforcement reputation of being a jaded hardass with one hand always on his gun, Charlie was absolutely devoted to Alice, just as he was to his own daughter. I'd always tried not to be one of those brutishly overprotective big brothers, and it certainly helped my cause that I knew the Chief of Police was looking out for her when I wasn't.

I speed-dressed in my running shorts and Forks High t-shirt, slamming my jeans into a rickety metal locker, before booking it to the gym. I was already planning my apology to Coach Clapp in my head but he was preoccupied setting up… hurdles?

Jasper was helping him, and when I caught his eye he mouthed 'Where were you?'

There was no good way to mime 'watching my little sister audition to be a fairy' so instead I gave an apologetic shrug.

Soon the hurdles were set up and Coach had rounded us all up on the bleachers. It wasn't hard, there weren't very many of us. Of the sprinters I was the only senior, and both Tyler and Leah were juniors. Leah was the only girl though, so she usually just raced with us. There was also a freshman named Eric I'd never really talked to. Jasper was more of a long-distance runner, along with fellow senior Mike and some other sophomore.

Coach launched into a quick pep talk about the meet with the Quileute Wolves and how they were good, but not necessarily better than us. He admitted that they had been doing well in most events lately. I nodded along – we had all heard stories. Most of those kids were from the Rez, and everyone mumbled that there must be something in their water, or peace pipe, or whatever. They had always been our rival, mostly because they were the closest school within driving distance, but suddenly they were beating us in most sports. No one was happy about it.

Apparently, the Wolves had made a good showing in hurdles, and Coach Clapp wanted us to have a chance at competing with them. That meant that Tyler, Eric and I were to spend the next hour practicing speed and form over the hurdles at different intervals.

Coach dismissed the endurance runners with a quick five mile run – no wonder Mike had said it'd be an easy day. I groaned in jealousy.

Luckily, I'd found that I was pretty good at jumping any obstacle put in my way. Speed and agility came naturally to me, and I found I enjoyed the feeling of spending the extra time soaring through the air without touching down. I couldn't say it came effortlessly, though. I was still panting by the time Jasper signaled me over.

"Coach said we can all go."

I wordlessly thanked him for the second water bottle in his hand, and we headed off to the showers. Well, he headed off to the showers. I had to pause to rest my hands on my knees and pant some more.

Jasper turned to face me, but kept walking backwards towards the lockers, looking all smug and cocky, calling, "Come on man, it's not like you ran any farther than usual."

It was taking most of the effort I had to stay upright and take in a lung's worth of air, but I managed to deliver my best glare and mutter, "Asshole." Whether he heard me or not, he still laughed at my impudence, but walked slowly beside me to accommodate my aching legs. As always, we rinsed off and dressed before heading back to his house.

"So, why were you late?" he asked as we carried our bags into his room.

"Oh. Just talking to Alice."

He shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just touching base. I figured I should go home tonight."

From the corner of my eye, I saw his expression shift. It looked like it tweaked, just momentarily, into a miniature frown.

Actually, no. I must have imagined it – it was wishful thinking on my part. I certainly wasn't relishing the thought of traipsing across my dad's threshold tonight.

Settling into our routine, we chipped away at our leaning tower of AP Calc homework until Esme called us for dinner.

Like any good family, the Cullens swapped anecdotes from their respective days as we all ate. Esme and Carlisle sat at the ends of the table, with Jasper and I on one side and Rosalie on the other. Sometimes her walking earthquake of a boyfriend, Emmett, would fill the empty space beside her but he was noticeably absent. I had grown so accustomed to his presence, the table practically seemed lopsided without him.

Carlisle was filling us all in on the antics of a disoriented but amusing grandmother he had to reason with at the hospital when Rose, apparently, couldn't take it anymore.

"Jesus, Edward, stop shoveling like you're in a coal mine."

My entire body came to an abrupt halt, a spoon of peas just inches from my mouth. Without making eye contact, I carefully placed the spoon back on my plate with a little 'tink' and straightened my posture. I tried to think of some pointedly nonchalant retort, but all I could think was, 'damn, damn, damn.'

I looked up hesitantly, not eager to face the four pairs of eyes I knew must be on me, but was shocked to find that they weren't. Instead, everyone was staring at Rose.

"Rosalie," Carlisle began with a bark. "That was a horrendous thing to say, especially to a guest."

During the years of my perpetual sleepover at the Cullen's we had all been reprimanded and chastised in front of each other, so I wasn't shocked to see Carlisle react so sharply. That fact didn't exactly lend his point credence, though.

Which, of course, Rosalie was fully aware of.

"But he's not a guest, Dad! He's like an exchange student that won't leave."

Carlisle placed his palms on the table and leaned in, as if he were about to stand up. "Young lady, if you insist on keeping this up, we can continue this discussion after we've decided how long you'll be grounded."

Her eyes stuttered to mine, full of malice and teenage vendetta, before dropping to her lap. "No, Dad."

Below the thick plank of the table, I felt Jasper's hand grab my elbow in a silent show of solidarity. Luckily, no one asked Rosalie to apologize – they had tried that before and it was, in a word, gruesome.

I hated this – the feeling that the only smudge on their happy family photograph was my presence. God, I couldn't even bring myself to look at Esme's face.

To break the tension, Esme reached over and began piling more peas onto my plate. As if I wanted them now.

"Go ahead and eat, dear. I made plenty."

When I didn't make a move towards my utensils, Jasper leaned forward to see Esme better. "Mom, you should have seen the drills Coach had Edward doing today," he began. "An insane workout. No wonder he's starved. The Wolves apparently have some guy named Black who owns the hurdles event, but it looks like Edward's going to be our secret weapon. He was passing the rest of the team without even looking."

I kept my eyes on my stupidly delicious buttered peas to hide my shock. That's certainly not what he'd said when I was practically on the gym floor, gasping. Still, I appreciated the rescue.

Carlisle turned his focus to me. "I thought that meet would be coming up soon. Do you think our own Racin' Masen can put those Wolves in their place?"

I swear I didn't blush. At least, I better not have, because I was focusing all my concentration on making sure I didn't. Instead, I thought about it for a moment and gave Carlisle a crooked, optimistic smile. Jasper, between us, was grinning at me and nodding his head. He knew my running better than anyone, and the idea that he thought I could beat La Push's best guy added more kindling to the little flame of hope I had been nursing. "Hopefully," I gulped. "Jasper's gonna whoop them, though. His times have gotten so much faster this semester."

"Well then," Esme cooed, "maybe this is a race we shouldn't miss. Carlisle, do you think you'll be off work in time?"

"I certainly could be. Boys, what time should we come down to La Push?"

I shook my head vehemently. It was an early meet for a school day – four o'clock – and that much hassle was completely unnecessary. "You don't have to."

"It's really no problem, dear."

They had asked us both, but all eyes seemed to be on me. "Not unless Jasper thinks he'll have any tight matches."

"Don't worry, Mom. We'll be racing them again in the winter. If La Push High puts up a good struggle, you guys can come to the next one."

"Alright, then. Jas, Rose, please help me clear the dishes."

I stood alongside Jasper, reaching for my plate but Esme pushed me gently back down. "Not you, Edward. Finish up those peas first. Then you can help."

Obligingly, and because I really was still hungry, I dove back into Esme's amazing home cooking. My dad had never gotten the hang of cooking with butter and salt, and the concept of spices was as foreign to him as what girls did when they left to powder their noses.

Rosalie whisked over to the sink with a flip of her hair, but not before trying to melt my spoon, and probably my face, to molten goo with her laser-stare.

Eventually, I helped with the dishes and then left to gather up the belongings I had scattered around Jasper's room like Pick-Up-Stix.

He dismissed me at the front door with a wave, and I ambled to my car with my school things in tow.

Esme had offered me leftovers to take but I declined, dismissing the thought of bringing them home for my dad. He could take care of himself just fine. He still had a job, he reeled in a decent paycheck and kept the house tidy. He had friends and hobbies and, I was pretty sure, poker nights on Thursdays.

Absolutely. Dad took care of himself just fine – it was his children he couldn't manage to look after.

I was doubly reminded of that fact when I carefully pushed open the front door of our quaint one story, three bedroom house to the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.

"Dad?"

Our front door led straight into a small entry way that was indiscernible from the actual living room. There was a small kitchen to the right that also opened up into the living room, and all the bedrooms were down a hallway to the left.

The couch straight ahead of me grunted.

I waved my hand through the air deliberately, making lazy eddies in the lightly visible smoke.

"Dad, you're gonna set off the smoke detector." What was he thinking?

I walked right past him to the screen door that revealed our postage-stamp backyard and yanked it open. The negative pressure did a menial job of herding the smoke eddies towards the open door, so I spent a few minutes trying to usher them faster with hand gestures. Futile. Then, still wordlessly, I stepped up to the couch.

Dad looked… old. His thinning hair and a belly that rudely resisted his belt gave him a look that screamed 'bored in middle management'. He was perched on the edge of a cushion, elbows on his knees, delicately ashing his cigarette into a tray on the coffee table. The tray was an old pressed soda can with sequins on it in little daisy formations. Alice had made it in elementary school, though I remained unconvinced it was designed to encourage smoking. Once upon a time, it had held her barrettes.

Moving swiftly, I pinched the cigarette out of his hand with my thumb and forefinger, like one would carry a dead rat by the tail, and grabbed the ash tray too. I carried them to the glass table on our concrete back porch and left them there. I absently rubbed my fingers together, hoping they wouldn't smell like tar.

"No smoking in the house," I commanded.

He didn't answer, just stepped into the backyard with me and plopped into the chair, the cigarette already back in his hand. He pressed the filter to his lips and took a long, steady drag. Then he shrugged. Fucking. Shrugged.

I swear to god, Jasper's shrugs irked me, but seeing my dad do it made me so riled up I wanted to smack the addiction straight out of his head.

I didn't though. I just stared at his aloof, distracted eyes, daring him to make eye contact long enough to acknowledge my ire. "House rule, Dad."

He chose to stare at the remnants of a flowerbed along the back fence of our property, and I knew he didn't give a damn. He would have never smoked in Mom's house, back in Phoenix. She had made that rule, and he followed it diligently. Worshipfully. But this hadn't been her house long enough to really count.

Maybe if it had been the smoking that killed her…

I didn't bother to finish that thought.

"Dad, you know track is really important. I can't come home to a house full of smoke." We both let the irony of that one slip by. Like that was the reason I stayed away. "I wish you wouldn't smoke them at all."

"You know what they say. That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."

No, I thought. That which does not kill you builds up over a lifetime of exposure and _then _kills you. And he should know that, despite his status as a walking cliché. My annoyance seethed, raising itself up to its full height like an antagonized cobra, and now it felt more like fury. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Jasper. Eternally calm Jasper. What would he do?

He'd keep his voice low, and tell it like it is.

So I did. I opened my eyes, stared straight down my nose at him and said, "That is fucking bullshit."

"Edward!" he snapped. I thought he might reprimand me. For a moment, I thought he might stand up and be the father who cared about his son's behavior, who wanted to mold him into a respectable person. I carried his namesake, for god's sake! But, instead, he let his elbow rest back on his knee and raised the cigarette back to his lips, mumbling.

I threw my hands up and spun, letting my hand slap the glass of the door on my way back inside. I hoped the noise made him jump, but I refused to do him the service of looking at him again that night.

I stalked to my room with a reverential nod towards the eight-by-ten glossy photo of my mom on the mantle. The picture was probably ten years old but, really, she was always that beautiful. Her copper hair was in wispy, delicate layers around her face but still reached her shoulders. The portrait was only her shoulders and up, but it was obvious that she was wearing the periwinkle blue sundress with capped sleeves that Dad had always said made her look like an angel. It was long and flowing, I remembered, and swayed around her ankles when she walked. Or, floated. Mom was quite petite (as evidenced by Alice) and the dress covered her feet when she stood, giving her a floating, ethereal quality. It was an obvious choice for the day we took our family portraits.

Of course, we had all taken individual photos that day, but we hadn't bothered to put anyone else's up in this house. Why would we? We could see the rest of us whenever we chose.

I considered stopping to spend more time with the photo. Just like Catholics went to confession and junkies went to meetings, I came to Mom to ask Why am I here and What am I doing with my life? I walked on by, though, because I was still in Dad's line of sight. Plus, I'd already asked for a solution to this Dad-situation about a thousand times and the answer had yet to come.

So I shut myself in my room, nestling down into the grey and black patchwork comforter Alice had picked out for me when I got too tall for my old bed. My room was smallish, but only compared to Jasper's. It just felt so impersonal.

The walls were beige, and mostly bare. I had thought to make this house a home when we first moved in, so I had decorated a bit. The pictures of my old friends had since come down – it's hard to stay in touch when you're thirteen and easily distracted. The only vestige of my carefree youth was a poster of the Mojave Desert at dawn tacked to the wall above my desk. I thought briefly about taking it down.

It was still early, barely nine thirty, and I reasoned that it would only take thirty seconds, tops, to crumple it into the trash, and then I'd go right back to being restless. So, instead, I sat motionless, staring up at the cracks in my ceiling and wondering if I was inhaling plaster particles in my sleep.

Eventually I pulled my computer out of my bag and checked my email. The Cullens had actually given the laptop to me, collectively, for my sixteenth birthday, though I knew better than to assume Rosalie had willingly signed that birthday card.

I was flabbergasted to say the least, and completely humbled. I had, of course, asked them to return it and, when that had failed, suggested maybe exchanging it for one of those nano iPods that fit in my pocket. I didn't bother to point out that it was a tenth of the price, but they saw through my charade of frugality anyway and insisted I keep it.

When they gave me a black thirty gig video iPod for Christmas later that year, I threw up my hands in defeat. Who was I to argue with the Cullens and their zealous desire to spend money?

Of course, when Rosalie heard me gushing about it on the phone to Alice she muttered, "Well, we give to charity, so why not you too?"

I almost did a lot of things in that moment. I almost stormed into Carlisle's office and slammed it on his desk, demanding a refund on my pride. I almost hit her, because she was clearly picking a fight and that was the only way I knew how to throw down.

I almost cried.

But Ali had launched into how Chief Swan wanted to take her and Bella to Yosemite, and Jasper had stepped into the hallway mouthing 'awesome' over his matching gift iPod, and I just didn't have the energy to flip out. Besides, I loved the gift too much to make a scene.

In fact, I still treasured it. I pulled that out of my bag too, scrolled to my Recently Added list, and let the earbuds block out the neighborhood sounds of everyone else trying to get through another of the earth's rotations, just like me.

* * *

**Up next, how do you think our boys will fare against the Wolves?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

Jasper and I had made it to the foyer of the Cullen's with our track bags slung over our shoulders when Esme skidded into view, already dressed in a cream blouse and tan capris. As always, she looked impeccable.

"Wait, boys. No leaving without saying bye."

She perched her hands on her hips and threw us a look of feigned hurt. I recognized that look; it had to be a mom thing. It was the exact same look my mom had given me when I turned ten and decided mommy kisses were gross and embarrassing, but still let her give them when no one was looking.

"Mom, we gotta go."

"I know, honey." She bustled up to the front door with us. "But you have the big meet tonight. Do you have your lunches? I packed you both extra Powerades."

"Thanks Esme." I wanted to get out of the house quickly, mostly because I didn't want to have to talk about the race. I knew I was quick and well-trained, but if even the local coupon-clipping grannies were suddenly paying attention to high school track, the Quileutes must have some pretty powerful runners. Thinking about it just made me more nervous.

"You kick some Wolf butt, okay Edward? You too, sweety." She had turned to Jasper, and pushed up to the tips of her bare feet to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck tonight. I'll have a special dinner when you get home." She turned towards me and for a moment I thought she might try to give me a good luck kiss too, but it was just as well that she didn't. It would have been awkward, not the least bit because I might have let her.

Instead, she reached up to ruffle my already electro-shocked hair. "Be sure to tell us all about it tonight."

I nodded with a slight smile and Jasper gave my shoulder a push through the now-open door. He called out a goodbye to Esme as he grabbed my bag and threw it on top of his in the back seat. I rarely bothered to lock my car, especially not at the Cullen's.

We swung by Bella's place to pick up her and Alice. When I first got my license, Charlie was hesitant to let his only baby girl ride in the car of a "negligent teenage speed-freak." Of course, I had then reminded him that I wasn't just any old sixteen year old, and that especially with Ali and Bella in the car, safety was my top concern.

The Chief and I had a healthy respect for one another. I was on the scrawny side of fourteen when Alice had her first playdate at Bella's. Mom had been gone barely a month so that evening, when Dad couldn't remember who Alice was with or when she was coming back, I was truly unsurprised. Livid, but unsurprised.

I knew from Ali's dinnertime rants that she was getting along with another fifth grader, Bella, and that her dad was the police chief. A few flips through the local phone book later, and I'd figured out the whos and wheres of it all. Seeing that he was only a few blocks from us, I walked myself through the neighborhood to give Bella's dad my cell phone number for when (I'd said, "if") my dad was unreachable. I also asked him to give me a call when Alice wanted to come home, so she wouldn't have to walk in the dark alone. He promised, instead, that he'd drive her the few blocks and I thanked him politely. Apparently I made quite an impression because what had started in "What do you want, boy?" ended with a "and call me Charlie." And I had, ever since.

I waved to him through his kitchen window as the girls barreled down the driveway to pile themselves in my back seat. Alice complained about smelly gym shorts in our bags – which they weren't; Esme had washed them – and Bella was her typical quiet self. She always smiled when I spotted her in my rearview mirror, though. I think she was grateful not to show up to highschool in a squad car, overshadowed by a Menacing Chief of Police glare.

I parked casually in the school's lot, but Alice was out of the car and on her tiptoes before I even had a chance to lock my door.

"Jesus, Edward. What did you do, take a bath with the toaster?" She tugged desperately at my hair, forcing me to lean over. "I swear your head makes its own electricity."

Bella stepped softly around to our side of the car. She looked flushed, as if already embarrassed by what she was about to say. "Yeah, Alice. We call them brainwaves. You'll start needing them for midterms soon."

I winked over Alice's head. In three year's time, Bella would make one hell of a valedictorian, I had no doubt.

"Alice, my hair is fine. Plus, we race tonight. It's gonna get nasty anyway."

"That's, like, a million hours from now. You could at least do something in the meantime."

I shot a glance over my shoulder to find Jasper grabbing our stuff from the back seat. "Jasper, could you please explain that we men of substance don't give a crap about our hair? I swear I've tried a hundred times already."

"Alice, GQ is for you ladies to swoon over, not for guys to actually read. Besides, the girls like that disheveled, freshly sexed look on Edward." He gave me a sly grin.

The girls, of course, launched themselves to cling at each other in a fit of freshman-girl giggles and I avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone.

Well, that's one way to start a morning. I wasn't sure I had ever actually said the word sex in Alice's presence. I still hadn't, I guessed, but…she was barely three months into high school. She came up to my armpit and was still my kid sister. She was ages away from thinking about sex. I mean, right? Except for the obvious signs of puberty – okay. Not a chance in hell I was thinking about that today.

"Let's go," I mumbled to the ground. The girls couldn't compose themselves enough to respond, so we just headed to our lockers and then to class.

The week had moseyed along pretty much as usual. The AP homework piled back up and Jasper and I spent lunches talking smack about other schools' track teams with Mike and Tyler. After a little more prodding from Jessica, I'd finally remembered to ask Coach about cheerleaders coming to the meet. He just scoffed and said I could see my girlfriend after I reminded those Wolves who Racin' Masen really was.

Even remembering that made my eyes roll of their own volition. The cheerleaders? Really? They were so… high pitched. The football team had had their heads ground into the mud so many times, they probably needed their girls to sound like dog whistles just to hear them. And besides, honestly, they could have them. We'd all seen under those skirts one too many times anyway.

Alice found me at lunch, to wish me the good luck she had been laughing too hard to deliver earlier.

"You're not coming?" Jasper asked.

Her eyes widened with momentary panic, and she started that little nervous-bouncy thing she did. "No. Was I supposed to?" She darted glances back and forth between the two of us. "I'm sorry Edward, I didn't think to ask Charlie. And, well, you're the only person I know with a car."

I waved her off. "No one's coming. It's not worth it. Forget he mentioned it." She gave an apologetic grimace, and hugged me for real good luck before flouncing off to haunt the drama building.

I turned to Jasper. "Why'd you even mention it?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. You seem all keyed up, I figured you two had been spazzing together."

"Naw. She has more than enough to obsess over. And apparently," I joked, "if it's that obvious, I'm nervous enough for all of us."

He obliged me with a smile, and we joined the rest of the track team to shit-talk the Wolves for the rest of lunch. I didn't offer much banter though. I tried especially hard to tune out any mention of one J. Black, but to no avail. Apparently he was only a junior and his name was on so many of the Quileute record sheets it was impossible to blow him off, to which my only reply was: well, damn.

In a blink of essays and calc quizzes, Jas and I were on the Forks High bus to La Push. Coach was in the front seat, facing the rest of us and giving some pep talk I doubted would be very inspirational. The goal was to run fast, got it.

The Quileute High gym was nondescript, with a painted track around the basketball courts that was a color best suited to disguise both dirt and blood. The loudest sounds were our tightly-laced shoes squeaking towards the bleachers.

Now that we were here, everyone seemed as tense as I felt. We made our way over to a man with skin almost the same muddy-red color as the track, who was holding a clipboard. I gave my name and checked in for the fifty-five, two hundred and four hundred meter dashes, and the fifty-five meter hurdle. With a quick nod to Jasper, I headed over to the benches where Coach Clapp was onto part two of his motivational speech, and began to stretch.

I recognized Jasper's running shoe as it was lifted to the bench beside mine.

"Jacob," he said under the roar of Coach's pride-fueled words.

I mouthed, 'what?'

"Jacob Black. The J is for Jacob."

"Oh." I craned my neck back over my shoulder, searching out the Quileute team. "Which one is he?"

"Don't know. Whichever one is maddest when you kick his ass?" He grinned and I grinned back. I was looking forward to having this meet, and Jacob Black, well behind me.

"Masen. Cullen. Eyes up front." We snapped to attention and listened as the coach gave out individual advice. Mine was to keep my left foot tucked over the hurdles, and save some energy for a final burst of speed. "Startin' first don't mean squat if you don't finish first."

I nodded and gave my arms and legs a final shake-out.

Coach put his hand out, and we all stepped forward for the customary Forks cheer. Placing all our hands on his, we formed a circle as he whispered, "One… two…"

"Forks High Hawks! Break!"

The distances I was racing, being short, were up first. Most events didn't have enough racers to warrant more than one heat, so as I stepped up to my starting line I scanned the track for Jacob Black. Eric and Leah were on either side of me and beside Eric, closer to the center of the track, were two nearly identical looking guys. They had the same glossy black hair that Leah had, which didn't surprise me since her family used to live on the rez, but their bare arms were even darker – a sun-kissed version of her cinnamon colored skin.

What caught my attention most, though, was their size. I had to look up to study their faces, putting them both at well over six foot three. Scanning them, from the impenetrable black of their eyes to the tension in their fists, my only true thought was: monsters. These guys looked like monsters. And not just the kind that hid in your closet and waited for you to open it, the kind that would track you, unheard, through the dark of your house because they sure as hell wouldn't even fit in your closet.

"Kiss my dust, Jake," Leah called across me.

Two pairs of eyes flickered in my direction, but only one looked dangerous. "Not a chance, chicken legs."

So that was him. The J. Black. Jacob. His gaze swam over me as he dismissed Leah and for a moment I felt… dirty.

I shook the thought from my head and turned to face front. Within moments, there was a voice on a bullhorn.

"Runners take your mark!"

I stepped into position, one foot forward between my fingertips, outstretched on the waxy wood.

"Get set!"

I sank deeper into my crouch.

_**Beep!**_

All thoughts flew from my mind like sand from the top of a moving car. The distance was so short, it was over in a matter of seconds, but it was still enough to remind me of the rhythmic bliss of my feet carrying me forward. Several yards after I was sure I'd passed the finish line I slowed, leaning back to curb my own momentum, and turned. Most of the others were just slowing past the finish line, but one figure caught my attention. Already standing still as a goal post, his monstrous black eyes were trained directly on me.

Then I heard the cheers from my own team, screaming and whooping like we'd just won the whole damn meet. Under it all was the distinct caliber of Jasper's call, which my own ears were always tuned to like a homemade radio.

"Hell yeah, Masen!"

I grinned deeper, the body heat from my brief dash all rising into my face. I knew then that I'd won. I'd ignored the world for ten seconds and reemerged, victorious. And if I'd won, that meant that Jacob Black …

… was walking straight towards me. His unrestrained hair was pushed back from his ears, like he was still running, but his paces were frighteningly slow.

Who knew a teenage boy could look so feral?

When he was within hearing but out of reaching distance, he stopped with a wide stance.

"What's your name?"

I was momentarily offended that he didn't know and dread my name like I did his. I had been at the center of Forks High's unbeatable track team for three years now, along with Jasper and Mike. But then again, his cocky attitude certainly hadn't prepared him for losing, and I was sure it was a painful shock.

"Masen." No way was I letting this vicious meathead call me Edward.

His eyes widened at that. "Racin' Masen?"

Ah. So the carnivore had heard of me? I nodded smugly. That's right, J. Black. I've got three school records and a rhyming nickname, what've you got?

Ok, admittedly, he probably had the same. Hell, I knew for a fact some of his records beat mine. But still – today, I had beaten him.

He spun wordlessly and stalked back to his own team, so I jogged back over to mine.

Coach Clapp stepped forward to slap me on the back with an "attaboy!" as I passed him to grab my drink. Jasper reached me next, and shook my shoulders so vigorously I nearly choked.

"That was awesome! That guy looked so pissed!"

"That was Black."

Jasper took in a sharp breath of understanding. "That explains it."

"I dunno." I may have won, but I didn't know exactly by how much. I had a feeling it wasn't a lot.

"Don't worry, man. You'll continue to kick his ass, and then we'll drive away laughing."

I dropped my Powerade back to the bench. "Yeah, until he follows me home to cut out my heart in retribution."

Jasper chuckled at my melodramatics but after a moment, he winked. "Don't worry Edward. I'll protect you."

I groaned at being patronized, but rolled my eyes with a half grin before trotting back to the starting line for the two hundred meter race.

Black glared, but I ignored him adeptly. I waited for the buzzer and, staring straight along the curve of the track before me, shot off between my white lines.

As I rounded the curve, I pushed against the varnished floor with full force. I could feel my calves and thighs coiling and releasing, but it didn't yet hurt. They didn't burn, just confirmed that I was working them hard.

I won that race too, to the sounds of more cheers from my onlooking teammates and audible cursing from Jacob Black.

Next up was a longer distance, to give the sprinters time to recoup. I gave Jasper a hearty smack on the back and said, "They've got nothing on you," in encouragement.

He wagged his eyebrows with a sly smile. "We'll see." And then he was off.

I was glad Jasper ran longer distances because it gave me time to study his form. He was glorious – lithe and agile, with the definition of his calves apparent even from across the gym. I hoped that, when I ran, I looked like Jasper.

He won, easily, which was as expected. Just another one of those things that came naturally to Jasper.

He finished the race a full five seconds before anyone else. I pushed off the bench to congratulate him but before I made it to the track, Black sauntered into my view. Instead of sparing me a glance, he stepped straight up to Jasper.

Pausing mid-step I watched, stunned, as Jasper propped his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and laughed. That asshole Black had made him laugh. Why was he talking to him anyway?

I saw Jasper respond, but couldn't hear him. They exchanged a few brief sentences before Black patted Jasper's shoulder and slipped back to his own team.

What. The. Fuck?

Instead of congratulating Jas like I'd planned, he ended up waving a hand in my face to get my attention.

"Edward? You with me?"

"Oh. Yeah. Good job."

He grinned at my dazed expression, but nodded. "Thanks."

"You, uh, friends with Black?" I hedged.

"What?" He laughed it off. "No, man, just friendly banter."

I wondered how friendly, and my silence must have prompted him further.

"Just typical captain bullshit. Don't worry about it."

Like just saying it made it happen. That asshole was captain? And he made Jasper laugh? The reasons to really hate him were just racking up.

Coach jogged up with Eric in tow. "Masen, on the track."

Eric slipped by with a nod before taking his position at the starting line. His 'YORKIE' jersey always made me laugh – maybe we could have one of those iron-on decals shaped like a terrier made for it. I grinned up at the coach and then Jasper, who winked.

"Keep on makin' him sweat."

I nodded and, within moments, was poised at my own staggered starting line, a few steps behind Eric, braced for the buzzer.

I don't really know what happened. Maybe I'd gotten too cocky and let my guard down. Maybe I was still distracted by the image of that bastard Black making Jasper tip his head back in a real, full-belly laugh, shaking his sweaty golden curls in the sun. Maybe I was too busy looking for him to realize he was beside me and gaining, step by step.

Cheers erupted as I busted my ass over the finish line, but too soon. The bystanders were on a two second delay, always needing a few moments to confirm with each other that their eyes did not deceive them. So when I heard them immediately, and from the wrong side of the field, I knew I had lost.

To Black.

God. Damnit.

It's not just that I hated losing (which, of course, was obvious) or that I resented Black's carefree confidence (again, duh). It was that he walked in with his grin and his tan and the reverent space his teammates gave him, like he was too fucking hot to touch. He was practically a baby in the world of track meets but still, the moment he showed up, he wanted it all. The trophies. The cheers. Even the easy camaraderie with Jasper. He wanted everything that was mine.

I sat on the bench ignoring all the consoling backslaps and droning platitudes. Jasper, luckily, knew better than to try. He just plopped his ass down on the bench beside me and waited out the buzzers and cheers until his next race. Which he won, obviously.

I knew my goal, my mantra – to beat Black – and I only had one more chance.

They finally called hurdles. For a moment I wished that I had registered for more races, just to increase the number of times he could see my MASEN jersey beating him. But, no – I was a sprinter. I knew what I was good at, and anything else was risking defeat.

Jasper finally spoke. With one hand on my shoulder, he looked straight in my eyes and nodded. "This time."

I nodded back. This time, I'd be better than Black.

I took my place on the white starting line. Crouched, one knee forward, my fingertips trailing along the rubbery wax of the gym floor, just like always. One foot, then the other. Don't look back. Kick some wolf ass.

_**Beep!**_

I reached the hurdles quickly, keeping my focus straight ahead. With just enough space to clear the obstacle, I took one strong leap. My right leg I held straight before me to pass the hurdle and catch my landing. The other I tucked up beneath me at the knee, like a bird preparing for flight. Step, step, step, leap. Step, step, step, leap. I cleared one hurdle after another, barreling forward without a thought. I synchronized my breaths to the pounding of my feet.

Three hurdles left – leap. Two left. I refused to look around for Black but suddenly, not in my peripheral vision but just slightly ahead of me, I saw movement.

Leap. One left. Step. Step. The movement ahead was quickly approaching or, rather, I was gaining on it. My mind, suddenly complacent about the hurdles, turned its pattern recognition to the gold-tipped tangle of curls bobbing along the side line. And those eyes – I could pull that opalescent shade of blue out of any crowded room. Jasper.

I turned my head as I passed, eager to see my success reflected in his face. Step. Step. Leap.

I groaned. The only thought in my head was suddenly, Holy shit, ow!

I tried to move, but found that my feet gained no purchase against the slick floor. What's more, my eyes were still closed, so after a moment I gave up trying to accomplish anything at all. I felt suddenly overwhelmed. Someone called my name, but I simply laid there waiting, breathing, hurting. I tried to ignore the pain, and the anxiety of what I'd injured and how badly.

Something tugged at my shoulder, but I strained against it. The movement just accentuated the many epicenters of pain radiating through my body. My knee and calf each had their own sensation of stabbing pain, as well as my elbow, and both my hands.

There was some commotion around my legs which caused a hiss of pain on my part, and then someone was calling my name again, but… closer. Softer. Gentler.

"Edward? Can you hear me?"

I groaned again, but allowed the pressure on my shoulder to roll me over. A soft hand swept the hair off my forehead.

"Can you open your eyes?"

I obliged with only one eye, and was met with that same glacial, stunning blue.

"Jas-" I started, but found that speaking hurt too. Add my face to the list of casualties. Instead I just mouthed, 'ow.'

He was instantly upright and calling for Coach before dropping back down to my side. "Can you stand?"

I gave a short nod with both eyes open and put my hand out for help. He grabbed it, and I winced. It felt raw, and hot. What do you call a rug burn when there's no rug?

He tugged, and stood with me, but as I stepped to right myself I felt my knee give way. Stinging tears came to my eyes and I must have let out a cry of some sort, because Jasper's arms were around my chest before I could sink back to the floor. I let my forehead fall against his shoulder and said, more audibly, "It hurts."

"I know, man. I know. I'm gonna take care of it."

Stringing my arms around his neck, I sagged even further against his restraining arms to take the weight off my aching leg. I tried to ignore the way it pulsed and stung anyway.

Coach Clapp and some of the guys were quickly by our side. I was reluctant to let go of the safe haven that was Jasper, but Mike hoisted his body under one of my arms as Coach said, "Get 'im to the bench, boys."

I hobbled as Jas and Mike did most of the work.

It wasn't until they got me situated with my leg propped up that I even bothered to look around. My attention was immediately drawn to the Wolves across the gym, who were laughing and slapping each other high fives. All except Jacob Black who was... staring at me?

The minute we made eye contact across the open, musky gym, he threw his head back and let out a wavering but resounding howl. His teammates, as if answering his call, threw their heads back to howl along.

It sounded, well, stupid. These were teenage boys, and they sounded more like dying roosters than vicious wolves. Still though, they seemed pretty pleased with themselves, and that just pissed me off. Especially Black. I wanted to storm over there and hit him, just once, so that I could enjoy his pain like he was clearly enjoying mine. He made eye contact again, with a smug grin, before joining in some more group high-fiving and crowing. What was this, some bullshit Quileute endzone dance?

Clearly, that bastard thought he was better than I was. He might have won, but he didn't beat me. I had tripped – I made a mistake and I wasn't there at the finish line. There's no glory in winning if you have no competition.

My jaw started to ache, and I realized I was clenching it too hard. Tenderly, I prodded my jaw and lip with one hand. Yup, all hail Racin' Masen, that guy who fell on his face. It ached more when Coach Clapp swung into my line of view and began manhandling it. He turned my face brusquely from side to side asking, "You still got your teeth?"

I nodded somewhat defiantly, trying to pull my face from his grip. He let go, though, and quickly dropped into a squat in front of me. I may have overreacted, somewhat, when I saw him reach for my right knee and slapped his hands away. He looked affronted, and annoyed, but I'd be damned if I was gonna let him yank my leg around like he'd done to my face. Everything from my knee down was already throbbing. At his nonplussed glance, though, I offered a meager, "It hurts."

"Yeah, I figured that out, kid. You want the nurse to look at it?"

I nodded. Anyone but you, Coach, anyone but you.

He signaled over a petite woman waiting on the Home-side bleachers, with the Wolves. Her long, ebony hair was in a thick braid down her back and she whispered something to Leah on the way over. Just like Coach had, she squatted at my feet and I instinctively cringed back. She just smiled up at me.

"I know it hurts, son. I'm just going to feel for anything broken, okay?"

I nodded and inhaled deeply against the coming pain, but her hands were warm and her eyes were soft as she ran her fingers up my shin and calf. I winced when she put pressure on my knee, but nothing seemed too dire.

"What's the word, Sue?"

The nurse stood, dusting off her long, paisley skirt. "Nothing's broken," she said to both me and Coach. "And his knee feels fine, but it's going to swell something awful. Make sure you ice it first thing when you get home."

I continued nodding dumbly. Wasn't there any ice now?

"Try not to move it, and if the swelling hasn't gone down by tomorrow, see a doctor, okay?"

Jasper spoke up from over my shoulder, where I hadn't realized he was also listening in. "My dad will take a look at it."

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "You're Cullen's kid?" Jasper must have nodded because she continued, "Good, good. See that he does."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The nurse looked down at me then and, oddly, my first thought was that she must have children. The little crinkles around her mouth and eyes when she smiled concernedly seemed distinctly motherly. "Can I get you some ice, Edward?"

Abso-friggin-lutely. "Yes, please."

She chuckled – I assumed at my eagerness, or relief. "Alright then, be right back."

Coach filled in the empty space she had left to bark out orders about ice and heat and bandages and Dr. Cullen and anything else he thought might get me back on the racetrack sooner. It took me a moment to realize he wasn't even talking to me. I looked back over my shoulder to see Jasper nodding conscientiously.

The adrenaline rush was starting to fade, and a wave of exhaustion passed through me. Comforted by the knowledge that Jasper would remember everything I was supposed to do, I let my eyes fall shut. I was jarred, a few moments later, by two large hands on my face. The touch wasn't painful, like Coach Clapp's, but I opened my eyes anyway.

Jasper was there, looking worried and confused, which was an unexpected look for him. "Edward, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you." I tried to shake my head out of his hands but he kept them against my cheeks.

"Okay, well you have to keep your eyes open. Do you feel sleepy? How hard did you hit your head? Should I get the nurse back?"

He stroked his hands up my face before lifting my eyelids with his thumbs. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but he still seemed to be leeching the anxiety out of me with his touch. I relaxed into his palm, gazing up at him.

"I just hit my lip, Jas. I'm fine. Isn't it swollen yet?"

He slid one hand down to stroke a thumb across my bottom lip which did, indeed, feel swollen under his touch. He let out a small chuckle, and the ease and mirth that was usually present in Jasper's face returned. "Yeah, man. It's gonna be sticking out for days."

I groaned at the thought and the aching throb that returned when he let his hands drop.

Eventually Leah showed up with an ACE bandage and a disposable ice pack, which I placed against my knee. I transferred it to my pained lip just long enough for Jasper to wrap the bandage up and down my leg expertly.

Eventually, he slipped away to win another race or two, and I swung my other leg up on the bench so I could lie down. I kept my eyes open, as per Jas's request, and stared at the high mottled ceiling while I thought.

What had happened? I remembered Jasper, on the sidelines, right towards the end – hrmm. Right when I tripped. I had let myself get distracted, damnit. The nurse didn't seem too concerned, but what if I had really damaged myself? I wanted to fast forward in time and know that this wasn't anything serious because without my knee I couldn't run. Without running, there was no scholarship, and without a free ride, there was no fancy alma mater. And without that…

"Edward! What did I tell you?"

I turned to see Jas jogging towards me, wiping the dripping sweat from his eyes with the back of his arm.

"Breathe," he prompted.

Oh yeah.

"And whatever you're thinking, drop it. Dad'll check you out, and you'll be just fine."

"Jas," I sat up and whispered, "You don't get it. Without track, I don't stand a chance at—"

"Dude." He held out a hand, stopping me. He seemed utterly at ease, despite his panting breaths. "We'll figure it out, I promise. Right now, just relax and make sure you don't move that knee."

I laid back down and covered my eyes with my hand in a futile attempt to block out the pain and the worry. Part of me wanted to rage and scream – I should have beat that menacing fucker Black, and I should be walking away with my head held high, proud and unassisted. But the other part of me was exhausted, and it wanted to curl up someplace safe and warm and forget about reality for a while.

Running was usually my refuge though, and I didn't know where to turn without that. I could still hear Jasper sucking in air beside me as I tried to remember the last place I'd felt the security and warmth I craved. It was…well, actually, it was in that brief minute on the track that I leaned into Jasper and let him carry my weight. With his arms around me, I'd no longer felt so overwhelmed.

That unexpected thought distracted me from my stinging knee, as if just the reminder of his proximity was a balm to my nerves. Hadn't he just said he'd help me deal with it? I didn't have to think about it – not alone, anyway. I could just put my knee up like he'd said and wait there, basking in the relief of having a best friend like Jasper who would take care of it. Of me.

* * *

**These chapters just keep getting longer and longer! Do you think Edward should let Jasper kiss it better? Review and let me know. **

**Stick around for the next chapter, when the lines start to blur.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

I sat waiting for the meet to end like I'd wait for the A/C in my car to kick in: sweaty and cranky. Jasper sat beside me, steadily draining Powerades of their vitality.

"Alright," he drawled eventually. "Up with you. It looks like it's gonna rain, and it'll take me long enough to haul your ass to the bus as it is."

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, but held my hand out for assistance anyway. It was much easier to move with the bandage on, but it was still fortunate that Mike saw our migration and joined the cause. I got situated in the third row of seats – it wouldn't do to be too close to Coach – and Jasper ran back to get our bags.

The rest of the team slowly trickled onto the bus, giving me noncommittal 'too bad's and 'feel better's. Leah showed up with another bag of ice, which I gladly took.

"Thanks, Leah. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, my mom gave it to me. She wanted it to last the trip home. Also," she leaned in, "she says you should have won."

"Thanks, Leah. Your mom brings ice?" I asked. It's not like Leah was especially accident-prone.

She let out a short laugh. "No, my mom is the nurse at La Push High."

"Oh! That explains a lot, then."

Her back stiffened as she stood to her full height to peer down her nose at me. "Explains what, exactly?" She raised one dark eyebrow.

"How, um, she was really careful not to hurt me?" I hedged. "And she knew my name and who Jasper was?"

Her rigid posture dipped, and her expression faded to one of nonchalance, possibly of the forced variety. "Oh, yeah. Well, I sometimes talk about the team. You know."

"Anyway, your mom was really nice. Tell her I said thanks for the ice."

She smiled and went to find a seat in the back.

The bus ride after that was relatively pain-free, despite Jas's insistence that I stay awake the whole time. He got his payback, though, when he had to drive my rickety POS Volvo back to his house.

I leaned heavily into him as we crossed the threshold to his house; I had an arm wound across his shoulders and he had one cradling my waist. A chuckle caught my attention, and my head snapped up.

"Aww," Emmett cooed from the couch, clearly amused. "Did someone take a spill?"

I blinked once, then again.

"Hello, Emmett," Jasper responded.

My eyes flickered to Rosalie beside him and I wondered – not for the first time – how tightly she pulled the strings. Had she found some nice, pliable varsity jock to jerk around and play puppetmaster with, or had she just found her other half buried under two hundred and fifty pounds of bench-pressing, geek-beating muscle mass?

"Looks like you took a dive head first!"

Before I could hiss out _what's it to you?_ he added, "Didja lose any teeth?"

In answer, I just chose to bare my teeth in a mock-grin that really said, 'why don't you fuck off and stick it to Rosalie already so I can sit on the couch in peace?' I was in no mood to be insulted on top of everything else. I just wanted to nurse my wounds and pretend this day was over already.

Apparently, my swollen grimace was too funny though. Emmett was still chuckling, and I could swear that not only did I see the couch shake under him, but I felt the tremors through the floorboards. Jasper flashed me an apologetic sigh, but Emmett was already chattering away again.

"Man, you are so lucky!" He curled his own lips and fingered one of his front teeth, producing a slight lisp. "Dis one's todally fake. I took one wrong step and BAM—" his hands clapped out a sharp soundwave that startled us all, "total faceplant! Straight into the concrete."

I could practically visualize it – Emmett, with his nose headed straight for the ground. It seemed like there should have been a guy in flannel around just to yell _Timber! _I guess I looked interested, 'cause he continued to relive it for us.

"And the worst part was, it wasn't even a game! I tripped over a rock or air or some shit in front of the whole team and spent the next four hours in the hospital waiting room covered in my own blood."

He had his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide in a look of 'can you believe it!?' and the truth was, I couldn't. Rosalie's walking, talking arm-accessory was sharing an embarrassing story and I actually felt… better? If nothing else, I realized this day could have easily sucked more. Maybe everyone was asking about my teeth for a reason.

Then, Emmett did the unthinkable. He popped up from the couch, abandoning Rosalie in the midst of her eradicating-Edward deathstare marathon, and said, "I've got some cold beers for the party tonight in my trunk, if you want one. Might take the sting out of it."

Holy shit, apparently Rosalie's personal lap dog was off his leash. And, it seemed, the unthinkable was also the unforgivable.

"Emmett!" She stood haughtily, and turned her mighty glare on him. For a moment, I wondered if she would actually say Bad dog! but he failed to wither at her command. "We have to go. To help set up," she huffed.

He agreed amicably, and we moved to settle on the couch they were vacating. As we passed them, though, Emmett ended the night with, "Make sure to ice that lip too, man. S'gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow."

Was he trying to piss her off? Didn't he know that just by speaking to me he was forfeiting any scooby snacks he had coming to him?

Jasper had deposited me on the couch and propped my leg up when he started untying my shoes. I started to protest, sure that they stank, when Esme came down the stairs chattering in her eagerness for news. She stopped abruptly, though, once she could see over the back of the sofa to my bandaged knee.

"Oh, Edward!" she gasped.

I tried to convince her not to fret, which was obviously fairly ineffective coming from me, and within a minute she was calling up the stairs for Carlisle.

He poked and prodded and, like the others before him, pronounced that it probably wasn't that bad.

"So, you landed with the hurdle between your knees?"

In all honesty, I had no idea, so I looked to Jasper who confirmed it.

"It got tangled between his feet and he landed with one leg on top. I think he hit his head too, so I made him stay awake the whole ride home."

No kidding. "He sang obnoxious commercial jingles the entire bus ride."

Carlisle checked my eyes like Jasper had done and chuckled. "That was probably unnecessary."

Jas just shrugged.

"Well, Edward. It looks like you twisted and bruised your knee pretty badly but didn't tear anything, so that's good. Do any of your teeth feel lose?"

I had to chuckle but, thankfully, I shook my head.

"Good. I do think you strained your calf, though, which is why it hurts so much more to move it. I'd say, keep the knee still with the bandage, but see if you can work out some of the knots in your calf to keep it limber, okay? For now, how about you get cleaned up and I'll see if I can pull some old crutches out of the garage for you."

I let my head loll back as I looked at Jasper forlornly. Crutches?

Together we made it to the bathroom door adjacent to his room. There was another bathroom down the hall, but this one was closer, so he left me there with a clean towel and my track bag while he moseyed to get himself cleaned up too.

It took a while to hop around and make sure I wasn't going to slip with only one foot on the slick tiles, but I leaned against the shower wall and directed the spray at an angle. It was awkward, and probably took twice as long as it needed to, but I managed to make it work.

Jas had dumped my bag near the shower stall, so I had a fairly easy time of fishing out a clean pair of boxers. I sat heavily on the closed toilet seat to get them up before I realized there was no way I'd be able to get my jeans on over a padded knee. I pulled my underwear up before making a hop/drag move to the bathroom door and pulled it open. I figured I could find some sweats in Jasper's dresser.

I didn't figure he'd be freshly out of his shower and pulling on clean boxers. I didn't bother with self-consciousness though – we had both seen the entire team in less.

"Hey Jas," I called out. "Can I borrow some sweats?"

He spun in place, looking slightly startled. "Sure thing. But wrap that knee before you walk anymore."

That was probably a good idea, so I began the slow process of hopping on one foot in a circle to turn towards my bag.

I heard a laugh behind me. "Jeez, Edward. Just don't move, okay? I swear, you're like a baby duck, all waddling and helpless."

I looked over my shoulder to raise a nonplussed eyebrow at him, which only made him laugh more.

"Shut up, Cullen, and give me some pants."

He breezed past me into the bathroom, pulling the unrolled bandage from my pile of clothes. Wordlessly, he crouched at my feet and positioned the tip of the bandage at my knee. I wobbled a little as he began to pull the cloth one way, then the other, and steadied myself with a hand on his bare shoulder.

He glanced up briefly before placing his hand on the underside of my thigh to steady me further. The skin there was so sensitive, and the pressure so subtle, that I felt a shiver ripple through me.

"Sorry, man. Cold fingers – I know."

They didn't feel cold at all. They felt soft and incredibly warm. Hot, even, like all the heat in my body was radiating from where his hand held my thigh. I wondered briefly if Jas was destined for medicine, the way his hands seemed to soothe and draw attention away from the pain. I didn't say anything though.

When he was done, he pulled a pair of dark blue warm-up pants from the counter. I quickly realized they were the kind that snapped up both sides, so I didn't even have to shift my weight. He worked on the lower snaps while I did the higher ones.

He patted my calf softly when he was done.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Mom said dinner's ready when we are."

Back in his room, he pulled two crutches from against the wall and handed them to me. I must have looked annoyed at their presence because he just chuckled and said, "Think of it as an upper-body work out."

I groaned, knowing he was right. I could feel the strain in my arms and armpits all the way to the kitchen.

Esme had, indeed, made a special dinner – a beef stroganoff that Jasper always gushed over. I found two Tylenol by my water, and quickly downed them before tucking into the food. As usual, I was starving, and from the sounds he made Jasper was too.

Instead of being appalled at our manners, which she probably should have been, Esme just seemed pleased her cooking was so well-appreciated. We filled her and Carlisle in on the progress of the meet, from all of Jasper's wins to my eventual face-dive and Black's stupid victory dance. They grinned and oohed and sympathized in all the right places, which lifted my mood a bit.

Dessert, though, worked wonders for my demeanor. We roasted marshmellows for smores – a Cullen tradition and personal favorite. It was too early in the year to start a fire , so we held marshmellows on skewers over their gas stove. We let them get all toasted and bubbly and giggled wildly when Esme would swoop in at the last possible moment with graham crackers to protect her precious stovetop.

"So, do you boys have plans for the night?" Carlisle asked, unsuccessfully trying to pull sticky marshmellow filaments from his fingertips.

"Mike's having a track party to celebrate, but I told him we had family obligations."

"We do?" I asked.

"Oh, honey, you're welcome to go as long as you're back by a reasonable hour," Esme offered.

Jasper, though, looked to me. "Did you want to go?"

I thought about it, about working my way through an over-exuberant crowd on crutches and trying to pretend I didn't care about losing to Black. "No, actually, I'm really glad we're not going."

"Exactly," he grinned. "Family obligations."

I grinned back. "Thanks, man."

Eventually I made my way over to the living room sofa while Jas collected blankets and pillows for a premium movie night, and then popped X-men 2 into the DVD player. We settled in, each with a pillow behind us against an arm of the couch, which our legs stretched over the cushions towards each other. I pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch that was big enough to cover us both.

Emse and Carlisle soon flipped off all the other lights downstairs and headed for their own room.

"See if you can work the knots out of that leg, Edward, so it's not stiff in the morning," Carlisle called.

"Okay."

"G'night, Dad."

"Goodnight, boys."

I shifted under the blanket, trying to sit up and maneuver my legs closer to myself, but with the bandage on it was impossible to bend my knee. Jasper, probably disturbed by my jostling, reached out to knock my hands away.

"Quit squirming, I'll do it."

"What?" What could he even do? I thought maybe he'd unwrap the ACE so I could reach my calf better, but I didn't relish the idea of bending my knee any more than necessary. "You don't have to do anything."

"Just relax. I can reach your leg better than you can."

With that, he plunged his hands under the blanket. I felt, more than heard, the snaps from my right pant leg being pulled apart. His fingertips skimmed over my shin and calf, and I couldn't hold back my responsive shiver.

"Sorry," he whispered, pulling back his hands to rub them together.

I still didn't have the courage to tell him his hands weren't cold. "It – it's okay."

"Tell me if it hurts."

His hands resumed their travels up the sides of my calf and down the back of it. After a few passes, he added some pressure, feeling for the tension and focusing his efforts in certain places. It did hurt but, like with all sore muscles, the pressure was overwhelming in a sort of good way.

I tried to turn my focus back to the movie, in which Mystique was currently running around in blue body paint and distracting everyone from the plot, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of Jasper's hands.

He never even got as high as my knee but just the slow, methodical movements and the way his finger tips would trail over my skin leaving little trails of tingles in their wake was a wholly mesmerizing sensation. I glanced at him, but his eyes were on the screen while his hands worked their wonders. I couldn't tell if it was my skin or his hands that were hot, but I suddenly realized I was sweating. He was eliciting some sort of response, and I could tell I was breathing faster than normal. In my peripheral vision, I could see him occasionally look to me, but his gaze never lingered. My entire lower body, now, felt warm and tingly. It was almost as if having Jasper's hands on me was… erotic.

That thought startled me, and I glanced hurriedly at him to see if he had caught onto my new line of thinking. He was staring fixedly at the TV, but it was clear that didn't mean anything. I was sure his attention was fixed on me the way mine was on him. I lowered my gaze to see his hands moving beneath the blanket but from my reclining position the sight was blocked by my – oh shit.

I jerked my leg from his grasp and turned on my side, trying to hide my eager erection, but managed to twist my knee in the process. I let out a hiss of pain, but Jasper was still unstartled and forcedly inattentive, which I took as a sign that his focus had definitely been on me the entire time. Had he seen it? Had he known what he was doing to me?

I felt light-headed, sick even, that I had been sporting a hard-on during his whole massage and hadn't noticed it. Had he? He must have, otherwise he wouldn't be ignoring me. But he hadn't stopped…

The thought shook my mind, and I didn't know which possibility was the most likely anymore. Maybe he hadn't seen? Maybe he didn't care? Maybe he did care, but stopping and drawing attention to it would have made it even more awkward. What was he supposed to say, anyway? 'Don't worry, Edward, my massages give all men massive erections.'

Then I thought, did he even notice the size? What did he think? I suddenly wished I had checked him out in the shower, just to have some inkling of how the erection I had been waving around would compare to his own. I bet he was big.

Oh my god, I had to stop thinking like that. He was clearly uncomfortable, and I longed to diffuse the tension with something, anything. He finally turned to me, and I knew I had to say something fast. Couldn't I just tell him I was thinking about a girl? But who?

Rebecca Romijn drifted through my consciousness and, desperate to make excuses for my man-massage –induced boner, I looked up to the chicks-in-leather-suits action sequence on the TV screen and blurted, "She's got great tits."

Just as Jasper said, equally hurried, "I might ask Lauren out."

My head whipped around so fast I almost gave myself another cramp. "What?"

He had pulled his legs to his side of the couch, and was more in a crouching position than anything else. He looked bewildered. "You like Lauren's boobs?"

"No," I gestured distractedly to the TV, not even sparing the supposedly nice rack another glance. "Hers. Why would you ask Lauren out?"

He gazed around the room, looking far more perturbed than his usual west coast demeanor allowed. "I dunno. I think she might say yes." He shrugged.

Always with that fucking shrug.

Lauren Mallory was not someone to be shrugged about. I should know. Besides, he couldn't ask her out – then she'd come over when I was already here and I'd have to make pointless small talk with her.

"She's an awful kisser," I pointed out.

If I hadn't had it before, that definitely got his attention. I could tell he was still confused but mostly he just seemed shocked. "How would you know?"

I blinked and looked around a bit, speaking casually. "She kissed me." I shrugged back at him, purposefully.

"When?"

By this point we were both sitting on our own isolated couch cushions, pressing against the pillows behind us, and I had tucked my uninjured leg beneath me. I wrapped my arms around my other knee, keeping myself as far from Jasper as the furniture would allow.

"Last year."

I could just make out his lips pursing in the dim light of the movie, and I could tell from his eyelashes that he kept bringing his gaze across the couch to me before swiftly reeling it back to his own tangled hands. I couldn't tell if he was looking at my knee, or my lap. "You never told me."

"It was… awkward."

"Awkward how?"

In truth, it was awful. Lauren had cornered me against the brick wall facing the boys' locker room when I was running late for track. She swiveled her hips up to mine, one hand on my chest and the other tracing my jaw. Before I could even draw in enough breath to ask what she was doing, her lips were pressed against mine and her tongue jabbed at my teeth. I opened my mouth, since that seemed to be what she was going for, and she swirled her tongue in my mouth a bit before pulling back.

She had looked at me expectantly, but I hadn't known what to say. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, so I just said, "Okay."

Wrong thing to say, apparently. Her brows arched and she looked thoroughly pissed off. "Okay?"

I said nothing.

"You're supposed to think it's sexy."

"Alright," I agreed, "it's sexy."

Which was a whole new level of the wrong thing to say.

I was never all that fond of Lauren, but I didn't ever mean to make her cry. She looked up at me through clumped wet lashes, and I could see the tears welling in her eyes, making them wide and glossy. The longer I stood waiting for her to say something, the thicker her tears became until they finally spilled over onto her cheeks.

I suddenly knew that, even without the kissing, I was in uncharted and dangerous territory. I grasped her shoulders and asked her not to cry. She felt so small under my hands.

Of course, at that, she cried harder. Finally, she wiped the tears from both eyes with the back of her hands and asked in a small voice, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

I felt so confused and guilty in that moment that I didn't tell a soul. No one else from Forks High, not Alice when she asked how my day went, and not even Jasper when I jogged into the locker room.

But now I figured Jasper should know.

"She kissed me but then she got upset. It was weird."

"Oh," he said quietly. "If you've already kissed her."

"Yeah, and it was pretty lousy," I agreed.

"I guess I won't then."

"Okay."

I got the impression that even though we were talking about Lauren, neither of us was really sure what the other was saying. Or maybe we weren't sure what we were saying to each other? We both turned to stare at the movie until the scrolling credits finally released us from the awkwardness that had overtaken movie night.

If I'd had my way, I would have just gone home for the night after an awkward scene like that. But on crutches driving was an impossibility, and if I asked Jasper to drop me off he wouldn't have a way home. Instead, I told myself to just suck it up, and pretend that nothing happened.

I was surprised by the end of the movie, as I'd been lost in thoughts of Jasper's hands stroking my legs and what he'd think if he could really see my hard-on, uncovered and at full mast. I decided that it didn't matter, because it's not like he ever would, but I still had to admit to myself that I hoped he'd find it impressive. Or… sexy.

Shit.

I tried to fall asleep quickly that night, I really did, but I was too lost in an eddy of inappropriate thoughts. Besides, if I slept on my stomach my hurt knee pressed against the cushions of Jasper's couch and if I slept on my back my leg kept falling off the edge. It was a really narrow couch, which I never minded, but with my leg permanently in a half-bent position I no longer had enough room to sleep comfortably. I contemplated sleeping on the floor.

Hell, I could probably fall asleep anyway if my brain would just shut the fuck up. But, no, it was stuck in an infinite loop of Jasper's fingers and the look on his face when I told him I'd kissed Lauren. It had gone from apprehensive to something like alarm. I reasoned he was just disappointed but, over what, I couldn't be sure.

My fidgeting must have been obvious because eventually his voice broke through the darkness.

"Edward?" I tried ignoring him, unsure of what he might say, but he called out more insistently. "Edward."

"Mmm?"

"Do you, um, is your leg giving you trouble?"

"It's not too bad."

"We can switch, if you want."

"That's stupid, it's your bed."

"I don't really mind. I kinda feel like an ass making you sleep on a couch you're too big for anyway."

"Yeah, and I would feel like an ass making you switch for it."

"Why don't you just sleep up here. For the night. You can take half."

I sighed. I knew I shouldn't, especially given the fact that my penis suddenly listed Jasper-ward. But I was so exhausted, mentally and physically, and the idea of a real bed filled me with such relief… Besides, it's not like we had never shared a bed before. "Okay," I said quietly.

"Okay," he murmured.

I heard him shift over, and grabbed my pillow before hopping over to the left side of his bed. I slipped in as quietly as possibly, trying to let him fall back asleep, but the moonlight coming through his window revealed his wide-open eyes. I closed mine immediately, feigning sleep, but he must have stared at me for several minutes because he whispered, "goodnight" before turning away.

Only then did I let myself relax into the bed. It was unbelievably softer than the couch, and smelled overwhelmingly like Jasper – testosterone and Old Spice. I knew I was enjoying it too much but, once again, his calming influence came over me and I drifted easily off to sleep. My last thought was a far-too-complacent, _I think I'm fucked. _

That proved to be true when my first thought of the morning was an alarming, _morning wood!_ At least I was on my side, I realized, so I couldn't pitch a tent. I opened my eyes slowly, taking in Jasper's shoulder. It was tan and well muscled and much closer than I'd expected.

I leaned my head back, and was met with sleepy blue eyes. "Morning," he said softly.

I must have rolled towards him during the night, because I distinctly remembered leaving more distance between us, but was now practically touching him.

_Morning wood!_ my mind called again. I took a sharp breath. Practically touching him with morning wood! I rolled away, trying desperately to hide my arousal, and tried to hobble to the bathroom. I thought I had nearly made it, my shame undiscovered, when Jasper asked, "Dreaming of Rebecca Romijn?"

I looked back over my shoulder, still trying to hide my hard-on, to see him smirking. His eyes glimmered, like he had a secret.

"I guess."

But as I closed the bathroom door behind me I thought, _Not even close, man. Not even close._

I leaned on the counter to take a look at myself. I didn't look so much tired as beat. My elbows were bruised and my hands were still red, and my entire face was splotchy. My bottom lip was puffy and red, with a scab that had formed on it over night, and my face was contorted into a perpetual wince. I figured Jasper must not have known what he was doing last night, because who in their right mind would make a move on this?

Still though, his effect on me was indisputable. I sighed and pulled open my boxers to take a look at the proof. God, it was practically purple. I must have been hard all night.

I knew I should just pee and get back to normal living, but that was impossible at the moment. I tried to think of unsexy things, but old ladies with fugly dogs just turned into the dogs that yapped when we did runs through town, which led me right back to a sweaty and heaving Jasper. In track shorts. So of course, instead of deflating, my erection strained skywards as an eager 'yes please!' and I was only left with one choice.

I felt kind of dirty doing this in Jasper's bathroom – worse, in Esme's house – but if my dick was going to act as a divining rod, I needed to get it under control. I knew taking another shower would look weird, so I just sat down on the closed toilet seat and grabbed a hefty wad of toilet paper.

I tried not to think about anyone specific. This response couldn't be solely about Jasper, I had just gone too long without release. So I licked my hand and pictured hands, someone else's, reaching into my boxers, just like I was doing. They stroked from the base upward, with insistent pressure, before swiping a thumb over the tip.

I repeated the action a few times before realizing I wasn't getting any closer. When I first wrapped my fingers around my aching dick there was relief, but I wasn't actually getting the job done. I realized a girl's hand wouldn't be able to do what I was doing – they wouldn't have the same size or reach – so I pictured larger hands.

That helped.

I closed my eyes, mindful of keeping silent, and pictured those hands sliding up my legs, reaching for my dick from below. They swiped up the inside of my thighs, kneading and massaging, before cupping my balls.

Christ, that felt good!

Finally the large, tan hands reached up to my erection, pumping slowly and languorously. In my mind I could hear myself asking, pleading, demanding that I needed something more.

A voice from my memory answered, low and soft. "I know. I'm gonna take care of it." And they certainly did. The hands sped up, twisting over my weeping head and smearing precum over the tip.

I had to bite my own swollen lip, which fucking hurt, to keep myself silent as I came into a wad of tissues. I breathed heavily, and finally re-opened my eyes.

I had made a mess. My hands and boxers were all sticky, and the tissue was dripping. Yuck.

I grabbed more toilet paper to wrap the wad in, and dropped it in the trash. Then I hopped to the counter to clean myself up. As I did, I swore.

When I looked into the mirror, I was confronted by the face of a boy who held a secret. A dirty secret.

That fantasy – those were definitely male hands. And that voice, promising to take care of it, of me. Fuck.

I had just been scammed by my own subconscious. I had jerked off to the idea of a man-massage, from Jasper.

I was so very, very, fucked.

* * *

**Oh go on, review, you know you want to. You know I want you to.**

**Any thoughts on what Jasper's thinking?  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.  
**

* * *

_I had just been scammed by my own subconscious. I had jerked off to the idea of a man-massage, from Jasper._

_I was so very, very, fucked._

* * *

Okay, so I'm not afraid to admit I was pretty freaked out when I realized what I'd done. Once my insistent hard-on had flagged, not only could I pee but I could think. What the fuck was I doing? None of this made sense. I was not the kind of guy who jacked off in other people's bathrooms, and I was definitely not the kind of guy who had lewd fantasies about his best friend. I didn't even like guys!

Not having a girlfriend didn't mean I was gay.

As soon as I thought that word, I found myself in the throes of a mini panic attack and coached myself through some forced deep breathing.

I wasn't gay, I decided, just confused. I had been upset and distracted, and I wasn't about to ruin the best thing that ever happened to me with some awkward 'sorry my penis poked you all night' conversation with Jasper.

I hopped out into the bedroom to grab the snap-pants and a clean pair of boxers from my bag before huffing my way back into the bathroom.

I must have made a real spectacle of myself, because when I came back out Jasper asked, "You okay?"

"Fine."

He shrugged and headed for the bathroom himself, while I sat on the bed and stewed.

The rest of the weekend was pretty tense. Ideally, I would have just driven myself home to ride out the rest of the weekend in isolation. That would require someone else driving my car, though, and someone else to come pick them up. I felt bad bothering Esme and Carlisle with that sort of thing.

Instead, I resigned myself to an awkward weekend at the Cullen's. Japser tiptoed around me, which made me feel like a leper, or a caged lion that couldn't be provoked. Then again, considering my erratic behavior last night, I could see why he wouldn't want to come close to me again.

Saturday was sunny so Esme suggested a day by the pool, and everyone threw on their suits and rushed outside. I was slowed down, of course, by my crutches and having to slather SPF 45 all over my pasty and delicate Irish skin. I didn't want to risk having Jasper touch me again, so I asked Esme to help with my back. She did a quick and efficient job, saying, "If you feel yourself burning, just get Jasper to put some more on. I'll meet you guys out there."

He had brought out a book and was lying in the sun, but I opted for the shaded half of the pool. The light reflecting on the sunny side of the suburban blue water played over Jasper's back in a pattern like the ridges of crinkled tin foil, but fluid and ephemeral. Once, when he looked up at me, I was struck by how his eyes matched the cloudless blue of the sky while his hair reflected the iridescent streaks of sunshine in the same pale gold hue as the pool. He embodied the sunny day perfectly. In fact, he looked like he should be at the beach, wearing nothing but a bathing suit and the leash to a surf board, advertising tear-free sunscreen. Sure as hell, I'd buy that sunscreen.

My knee had turned into a collage of purple and green swirls, but it still felt good to take all my weight off it and float in the pool. After about an hour, though, I got out long enough to dry off and add another layer of sunscreen. Esme did my back again.

Sunday was just as hot, so I lounged around in shorts and a wife beater, but didn't go outside. The day was mostly dedicated to homework, with a quick call to Alice. When I told her how the race had gone, she chided me for not calling sooner.

"I thought no news was good news! How could you not tell me you were limping around like a cripple?"

"Ali! I'm not crippled. Carlisle looked at it this morning and said I can probably ditch the crutches soon."

She sighed. "Fine. Wait, how are we gonna get to school tomorrow? Do we have to ride in the cruiser?"

I chuckled. She sounded almost eager, but I knew Bella would be mortified by the thought. "Jasper can drive."

"Oh. Alright then."

"Don't worry, he drives faster than I do. You know those Cullens and their issue with the speed limit."

She snorted. "Yeah, like the Volvo can go any faster."

"Hey! Respect the Volvo!"

"Whatever you say, Teddy. See ya tomorrow."

"Got your homework done?"

She let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, Edward."

"Good. See ya."

That afternoon I decided to focus on my one college app. I pulled up Princeton's website, so I could find all the deadlines for early application, financial aid and all that other important stuff.

At first I couldn't find it, so I got fed up with the website, but a few more searches on google told me that my frustration was just beginning – Princeton no longer took early applications, as of 2008. So much for the college counselor's motto of 'Apply early – it's less work.' That meant I couldn't just apply there, I had to pick several schools. At least five. And that meant instead of one or two essays, I'd have at least ten. God damnit.

"Don't let my mom hear you talk like that." I looked around to see that Jasper had just come into the living room, where I was working. I must have sworn aloud. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"Princeton doesn't take early apps anymore."

"Oh." His face tightened up as he thought through something. "Oh! Shit, man. I'm sorry."

He turned then, and walked out, so I figured he was still avoiding me. He startled me by coming back a minute later and falling onto the couch beside me. He had a monstrously thick book of colleges on his lap.

"Dad got this for me last year. Do you want to look through it?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He put his hand on my bare shoulder and gave a little squeeze. "That really sucks, I'm sorry." His hand seemed to linger.

I tensed under his touch, but surreptitiously glanced downward. Jasper had made contact, skin-to-skin contact, and my pants were still tent-free. Halle-frickin-lujah. I knew this whole experience had to be some weird fluke. So I had been attracted to him, briefly, but I wasn't anymore. That was what mattered.

I grinned up at him, which probably looked out of context, but he asked no questions.

Instead, he seemed to feel it when I dropped my guard, because his shoulders relaxed as well. He got his computer out of his room and joined me in the living room while he finished up some essay.

Neither of us mentioned the strange tension that had permeated the weekend.

But we still went halfsies on his bed.

As I expected, Bella looked relieved and Alice looked disenchanted when we picked them up the next morning for school.

Jasper nodded to them. "Morning, girls."

"How come you don't have your own car?" Bella asked.

He shrugged as he pulled out of the Swan's driveway. "Edward had his when I turned sixteen, and then I wasn't in such a rush anymore."

"Yeah," Alice piped up, "but you could've gotten a nice car. It's not like your parents can't afford it."

"Alice!" I turned around in my seat, but she just mouthed, 'what?'

He looked at the girls through the rearview mirror and said, "All you need's a car that goes. This one does the trick." I hoped Alice took that to heart, 'cause she was going to inherit the Volvo once she turned sixteen, if it still ran.

Truth was, I'd asked him the exact same question – with a bit more tact – and he'd told me he'd never wanted to sound like Rosalie, so he never mentioned a car to his parents.

Alice clearly didn't agree with the logic he'd voiced aloud, but didn't say anything more.

"So, I don't have to go to track after school. Where are you girls gonna be?"

"The drama room. They're posting the cast list."

"Oooh," I said with a wag of my eyebrows, flashing a grin at Jasper. "It's the big day."

"Shut up, Edward."

Jas and I laughed.

I found Ali in the hallways after school or, rather, she found me. Once I spotted her barreling down the hallway, I had enough time to lean a crutch against the wall and brace myself for her monster force of a hug. She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed tightly. I had no idea whether this hug was a plea for congratulations or condolences, but I wrapped one arm around her small back and squeezed.

"Ali?"

When she shook her head and pressed her face into my chest, my heart sank just a little. Damnit. And she had been so excited.

"You're not Puck?"

She looked up at me then, with her chin digging into my ribs, and I could tell her eyes had been wiped of tears. "I'm not anyone. I didn't get cast at all."

"Not even a fairy? Can they do that?"

She nodded sadly, and pressed herself back into my chest. "I'm just a freshman."

"I'm so sorry, Ali." I tried to pat her back soothingly. "What about something else? Would you want to do costumes? Or set design?"

She shrugged without lifting her head. "I don't want to think about it yet."

"Okay," I agreed. "Let's go wait outside." I picked up my other crutch and we slowly made our way to the library, where Bella was studying. We didn't go inside, instead opting to sit leaning against the old brick building and talk. I slid down awkwardly, holding my right leg out straight and catching myself on the concrete, whereas Alice did some delicate plea thing that left her sitting Indian style. It's a good thing I was fast, 'cause she sure as hell got all the grace.

Giving her eyes one last rub with her dainty fists, she let out a weary sigh. "I just knew this day was going to suck."

"Yeah?" I humored her.

"Yeah. First we didn't get to ride in Charlie's cop-mobile, then chemistry had a pop quiz, and then the cafeteria lunch sucked balls."

"Alice!"

She just shrugged. "What? You say vulgar things all the time."

"I do not!" Not in front of her, anyway. And I certainly didn't say _that_. She didn't believe me though, so I conceded. "I'll cut down if you do too?"

"Deal."

"Anyway, why was lunch so crappy?"

She let out an aggravated groan. "What made Forks think they knew how to make enchiladas? I mean, seriously, did the Mexican border just jump three states closer, because last I checked we were surrounded by a bunch of helpless gringos."

She had a point – all the Spanish words Mom insisted we pick up in Phoenix were a complete waste here in Washington, and the Mexican food available around was worth even less.

"Wait, I thought Charlie packed you a lunch?"

She let out a little giggle. "Oh, Edward. He used to put lunchables and a soda in a paper bag but that got old, I guess, so now he just gives us lunch money."

I frowned. "You shouldn't be taking money from the Swans, Ali." I frowned and resolved to stop by the ATM as soon as I could drive myself again. I knew I was a monstrous hypocrite, but still. Ali had been right this morning – the Cullens could afford a lot, a lot more than Charlie Swan could. Like, for example, an extra mouth to feed. "I'll give you some money for lunches by next week, okay?"

I expected that to lighten her mood, for her to perk up and 'ooooh!' and run through a list of all the things that money could buy. Like clothes or makeup or chocolate; whatever it is that girls secretly want.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest, laying her cheek down on one knee to look at me. She looked so forlorn.

"Why do you have to change everything?"

"I'm not, I'm just trying to make it easier—"

"You are!" she insisted. "Everything's going to be different. I'm in high school now and have to worry about money and you're going to leave and everything's changing." She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "I'm changing."

I mimicked her by laying my cheek on my good knee. "You're still you, Teeny. You're still the same brat sister that messes with my hair and makes fun of my car at every opportunity." I grinned widely, hoping it'd catch on.

She pushed one hand up to swipe her long auburn hair over her shoulder. "No. I'll never be the same."

"Come on, Ali. That's pretty—"

"No." She cut me off with a stern voice I rarely heard from her. "Edward. You're being dense. Things have changed."

I lifted my head, eyeing her closely. "What things?"

For a moment I thought she wouldn't answer, but then she pressed her forehead against her knees and told them, "Woman things."

' … ' went my brain. Oh man. Oh shit. I threw my arms around her, basically trying to block her view of the panic on my face.

"Edward, you don't have to freak out just 'cause I got my period."

I winced at the word.

I loosened my arms so she could rearrange herself. "Shut up," I whispered softly in her ear. "If Mom were here she'd hug you, but she's not, so I get to do it, okay?"

I felt her nod and hug back.

"I just feel like I'm supposed to be different now. Mom always said 'When you're a big girl we'll talk about this' and 'When you're older we'll talk about that.' Now I'm wondering if there's some easy way to do this that she just never got to tell me."

I nodded sympathetically, but obviously didn't have any insight for her. I asked her polite questions: when it had happened, how she was feeling, if she needed anything. Eventually she shushed me, amused. "Just stop, Teddy. You obviously have no idea what you're talking about."

I gave her a pointed look. Was I supposed to know any of this? That's what moms are for…

"But," she looked away, staring instead at the concrete between us, "thanks for listening."

"Of course."

It occurred to me, in a flash of potential, that Ali would listen to what had happened to me this weekend too.

I mean, not what _happened_. Not what I _did_. As far as I was concerned, spurting to the thought of Jasper's hands was something I would leave in the closet, along with all my other skeletons, forever.

But surely Ali wouldn't judge me, right? I opened my mouth to bring it up, but couldn't think of where to start. She raised an eyebrow in question, but I just swallowed and shook my head. It was too soon, too confusing and uncertain. I wasn't even sure what there was to say that didn't include my erection. And I still thought, maybe, this would turn out to be some huge random coincidence.

Even if I had woken up hard the last two mornings.

Eventually Bella dragged herself away from the books and into the daylight and Jasper jogged up, all freshly showered. His thin white shirt clung to his body like his skin had still been wet when he pulled it on, and it highlighted his broad chest and his—

Why would I care if his nipples are hard? So what?

Ali filled Bella in on the drama debacle in the midst of one giant hug while Jasper joked about Coach Clapp's ability to lecture thin air, and then we all wandered towards the car. Jasper drove again and dropped the girls off first, but stopped by my house to pick up fresh clothes. I grabbed my crutches before maneuvering myself out of the car.

"I'll just be a minute."

He rolled his eyes, already standing in the street and shutting his own door. "Like you could even lug your stuff up the steps."

He had a point, so I let him drag my bag out of the trunk and into my room, where I grabbed some fresh clothes. I had left the dirty ones at Jasper's, because if I brought them home they'd probably be neglected until they grew a colony of sentient mold and slithered away.

"You know," he reasoned, hoisting the now-heavy bag onto his shoulder, "you should probably just have a drawer in my room."

A drawer? I had been sleeping at his place for years, why did I suddenly need a drawer? Drawers were for girlfriends. Why was I suddenly deserving of a drawer? The idea of it appealed to me in a very frightening way. I could see myself, rolling out of Jasper's bed all sleepy and disheveled and sauntering over to his dresser like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That image unnerved me though, and I shook my head. "That's alright. Things are fine the way they are."

He took a step back, and his eyebrows shifted towards each other. "Oh," was all he said, before turning to head for the front door. I followed him but as he held the front door open expectantly, I paused.

"Do you, um, could I have a minute?"

His eyes flickered toward the living room where our most prized photo adorned the fireplace. With a silent nod, he stepped outside and closed the door soundlessly.

I sat gingerly on the coffee table, laying my crutches beside me and taking a deep breath before gazing up at the fireplace.

"Hi Mom," I said softly. This was an old tradition by now, our one-sided conversation of fragmented sentences and wishes. When I was a kid, she'd sit and listen and swipe the tangled hair off my forehead, and when I was finally out of words she'd tell me she loved me and that it would all be alright. And I believed her. It got so that just telling her my fears and worries would make them better, because she always promised it'd be okay. In the more recent years, I always felt that it was easiest to think under her supportive gaze.

I thought about what I most wanted to say. It wasn't that I spoke to Mom, exactly, but more that I thought really loudly.

_I miss you, _I thought._ So much. You really should have been here today. _

I thought about what had happened to Ali, and how she had to turn to her clueless older brother for help. It obviously bothered her – she was confused and uncomfortable, but I sure as hell didn't have the answers. I thought about how she and Bella had called Renee but, surprise, she was nowhere to be found.

I ran a hand through my unruly hair.

_You're supposed to be here._

The fact that she wasn't bothered me and I started to get angry, at life and my helplessness and the injustice of it all. I let my hand fall over my eyes, focusing only on deep breathing for a minute before I looked up at the photo again. Mom's visage watched over me, soft and soothing with her blue dress and jungle green, knowing eyes. She had been looking directly into the camera when this particular photo was taken, and it felt like I could make eye contact with her from my seat on the coffee table. Our matching family eyes focused on each other's, and it felt like she was actually listening. So I confided in her like I couldn't in anyone else.

_And I'm confused too, Mom. Jasper's always been wonderful but suddenly he feels… more wonderful._ I didn't know how to explain it, even to someone who wasn't there. He was so good to me, and I didn't have to worry so much when he was around, because I felt like at least I knew I'd done one thing right.

I took another deep breath and took in the slight quirk of my mother's smile, like she knew how this would all end. If only she could tell me. _I know you'd always love me anyway_, I told her, _no matter who I like. I'm not saying I do like him, I'm just saying, you know. I just wish you were here to tell me it'll be okay._

"I hate that you're gone," I whispered, finally dragging my eyes to the floor, where I stared at my ratty shoelaces. I could feel my chest getting tight, but I couldn't deny the relief it felt to say that aloud, even to an empty room. I hated her absence more than anything.

I thought about all the other things I hated – the sun, first and foremost. I hated the soccer games and swimming lessons that had dragged her out under the harsh UV rays of Phoenix. I hated Forks, even though there was barely any sunlight, for the months of hospice care we'd all held our breaths through. I hated the word cancer.

I hated the responsibility of raising a fourteen year old girl, and I hated that I had no one to say Edward, relax, just be a kid a little while longer.

Damnit, I loved Ali, more than anything, but the weight of being her anchor and compass could be crushing sometimes.

The only thing that came easily in my life was, well, he was waiting for me in the car.

I looked at my own pasty white arms to find that they were blurry. Hurriedly, I wiped my eyes and gathered my crutches.

"Feel better?" Jasper asked after a few minutes of silence in the car.

I nodded. I really did.

By the time we reached his house, I had made up my mind. Jasper, considerate as ever, was pulling my duffel through the front door, and was surprised when I veered off towards the sound of Esme in the kitchen.

"What's up, man?"

I looked back over my shoulder, feigning an ease I didn't feel. "I just gotta ask your mom something real quick. I'll be there in a minute."

I stood awkwardly in the kitchen waiting for Esme to notice me over the sound of her clanging pans and humming.

"Uh, hi Esme."

"Edward!" She spun around, startled and clutching a wooden spoon to her chest. When I didn't say anything she prompted, "Do you need something?"

I did. I needed to ask her a question, but a million different possibilities swam through my thoughts. _Where do you draw the line between friends and lovers? Would you hate me if I kissed your son? Would it be weird if Jasper gave me a drawer?_

I couldn't look her in the eye, so instead I stared at the grains of wood beneath my feet and mumbled out my query.

She placed the spoon on the counter before stepping closer. "Edward," she said softly. I still couldn't meet her eyes. "Edward, I can't understand you if you mumble."

Crap, I was going to have to say it louder. I cleared my throat and asked in a timid voice, "What should you do after a girl gets her period?"

"Oh!" Her posture stiffened as she took a step back. My eyes flashed up to hers, but she was looking around, away, anywhere but at me. "Edward, dear, isn't this a conversation you'd rather have with Carlisle?"

"No!" I blurted out, a little too loudly. If Esme was surprised before, she was fucking bewildered now, and I couldn't say I was faring any better. I squeezed my eyes shut and slapped a hand across them, begging my brain to get its thoughts in order. Rephrase, rephrase!

Finally, I looked up at her.

"I didn't mean it like that." I knew what girls had to go through, technically. If nothing else, last year's health class had hammered that point home. Um, so to speak.

"It's just, okay, she'd kill me if she knew I told you, but Ali got her period. And she told me, 'cause I'm the only person she can tell besides Bella. I know all girls go through this and she'll figure it out eventually but I know there's supposed to be some lecture, or something—." I was really speed-talking now, dispelling the words from my mind so I didn't have to think them anymore. Luckily Esme's expression had turned to something indiscernible but distinctly maternal.

"Edward," she interrupted me, a hand held up to get my attention. "First of all, breathe."

I did, and thought of Jasper.

"Second, let's sit." We moved to sit across from each other at the family dinner table, and I leaned my crutches on the chair beside me. "Alright. Edward, women have been figuring this out for centuries, and there will be someone who knows what they're doing to talk to her about all this. A woman," she punctuated, as if it wasn't clear.

I sighed. "I don't think so. She comes to me for everything. Everything. And this was no exception. Bella's mom is completely AWOL, and she just got so upset over how things are changing. I just want to know if I should get her a book or… something. Charlie Swan certainly won't be any help."

Esme actually chuckled at that. In fact, I think she let out a little snort. "No, certainly not." She reached across the table, then, and gave my hand a little squeeze. "Edward, it's truly touching how much you care for Alice." Her eyes flicked to the direction of her children's bedrooms. "And yes, she would probably benefit from some motherly advice. But there are some things you just won't be able to do for her."

I sighed again, and deflated in my seat. "I know."

"I'll have to talk to her."

"Seriously?"

She smiled tenderly. "Absolutely. She's so young. I'll bring it up next time I see her."

I swear I would have hugged her if there wasn't a table between us. "Thanks Esme. Really."

"I know, dear." She patted my hand before standing. "Dinner's in an hour. Tell Jas, would you?"

After we ate, Carlisle poked and prodded until he decided I could lose the crutches, saying that everything was healing nicely and the bruising was mostly superficial. I still limped around making a spectacle of myself until it was time for bed which, I admit, I was both looking forward to and nervous about.

On one hand, my brief elation over interacting with Jasper boner-free had dissipated sometime around lunch when he threw his arms over his head and stretched, revealing both the cut of his pecs and warm tan of his stomach. My brain went _don't look!_ but my dick went _sproing! _

So of course I had to excuse myself, citing some last minute homework to do.

I knew I had been running hot and cold all weekend. I felt caught between enjoying the tingles up the back of my neck – among other places – when his vulnerable and affectionate gaze fell to me, and the absolute fear of being caught at full-mast with no explanation but the strong curve of his jaw. What would he think? What would he say? Jasper was one of the most loving and sympathetic people I knew; all the small kindnesses that made me hard could just be exactly that – acts of kindness, of friendship. What if I was misinterpreting all his signals, and admitting my reaction would squander the only good friendship I had? It had been taking me longer and longer to walk away each time, though, and I feared that eventually the desire to nuzzle my dick up against his thigh would overpower me. That was why I had to keep my distance.

On the other hand, he just smelled so fucking good. I confirmed this when I crawled into his bed that night, against my better judgment, and inhaled deeply. Jasper was warmth and cinnamon and grass and summer and all things easy and right. Fuck. How was I supposed to stay away from this?

I wasn't even half asleep before I started getting hard. Knowing he was right beside me in only boxers, the tension and fear and arousal began to wreak havoc on my teenage body. Christ, my dick was so insistent, it was practically a medical condition. I wondered idly if there was a support group for this kind of thing. Hard-ons for Cullens, and I was its only member.

Well, except for Emmett. The thought kinda weirded me out, but also made me snicker to myself, thinking that we finally had something in common. Plus, there was every other guy at school that would drool over Rosalie just so she could stare at her own reflection in the puddles at their feet.

Okay, so it wasn't just me. Clearly this Cullen family had some sexy motherfucking pheromones, and no one else in Forks could blame me if I was powerless against them.

My dreams were vivid and X-rated, with Jasper slipping off his track shorts in the showers at school. We were alone, and when he turned to me I could see his straining cock, eager and weeping, just like my

_Morning wood!_

"God damnit damnit damnit," I muttered to myself. Damnit damnit damnit.

I quickly rolled over, out of the dip in the middle of the bed that somehow both Jasper and I were curled into, and lurched to the bathroom.

I heard a groggy, "What's up? You okay?"

"Fine!" I slammed the door a little harder than intended.

There I go with the mixed signals again. Jasper probably thought I had a personality disorder by this point, but the boner thing was really getting out of hand.

I started up the shower and quickly climbed in for an angry wank session. It's embarrassing how quickly I came all over the slick green shower wall. The mess I made then clumped all over my hand when I had to wipe it off, 'cause that shit is sticky. I stomped around the house all morning, forcing Jasper to dodge me and my hostility.

Jessica cornered us outside first period and tried to commiserate over our loss and my injury at La Push, since she'd been absent on Monday. I couldn't even fake giving a shit, so Jasper did all the talking.

After school I was still less-than-stellar company, so we opted to watch an episode of Heroes that Esme had recorded. I tried to concentrate, but was distracted by the desire to lay my head on Jasper's shoulder. As soft as it wasn't, I definitely wanted a reminder of how good he smelled.

That was alarming in and of itself, because I didn't have a piece of anatomy to blame it on. It struck me, then, and I nearly groaned for being so oblivious. This was my best friend; the center of my slowly-turning universe, other than my family, since our very first sleepover. I thought I was just hormonally repressed but now I wanted to, what? Snuggle?

My mind flipped through the index of memories: leaning into Jasper when he tied on my bandage, throwing my arms around him when I'd fallen on the track, the way I ended up nestled against him every morning in his bed. I just wanted to be close to Jasper.

And now I knew why. The images in my head blurred and morphed, like water colors dripping down a canvas, only to create brighter, revised pictures. I could hear what Jasper would have whispered on the track, about how he'd take me home and wrap his arms around me and make it better. I could see him kneeling with my bandage, but then skimming his fingertips over my knee and thigh, across my hips and chest, until he reached my neck to pull me in for a soft kiss. I couldn't believe I was thinking about kissing Jasper!

God, the things we could have been up to waking up in his bed every morning. I was sure Jasper would make a truly considerate lover.

Oh my god. Lover.

"You alright, man? We don't have to watch this. You look like you've seen a ghost."

His breath across my ear made me shiver, but I nodded. I had seen a ghost. The ghost of what might have been.

The ghost of what could be?

I couldn't concentrate for shit after that, ignoring my homework completely, and was grateful when Esme called us for dinner.

"So, Edward, have you made any plans for your birthday?" she asked.

I startled. "Uh, no? I usually just spend the day with family."

When I immediately realized that, no, I usually spent it with Jasper's family, I coughed loudly. I clearly considered the Cullens as surrogates for the cohesive family I no longer had.

"I mean, and you guys."

"What, no party?" Carlisle joked. "You only turn eighteen once."

"You're even welcome to have it here, dear."

If Rosalie's usual expression was shooting daggers at me over dinner, she had upgraded to hand grenades. The dreams of her sweet-sixteen party had been squandered when Esme vetoed half the guest list.

"Honestly, I don't really want a party. Can't I just hang out here?"

"Don't worry, man. We'll just chill."

That sounded like a better alternative to filling Jasper's house with people I didn't even know that well.

"You won't be too upset though, will you, Edward, if I make a cake anyway?"

I smiled a little at my plate, avoiding eye contact all around. "I'd like that," I said quietly. "Coconut?"

After dinner, I quickly excused myself to Jasper's room and spent several hours trying to pick out colleges to apply to. The quiet did me good, and I found myself breathing a sigh of – well, if not relief, then at least understanding. I was still anxious as hell, but at least my thoughts were clear. I liked Jasper. I like-liked Jasper. I wanted Jasper. The uncertainty that represented was ridiculously scary, but at least I didn't feel like an unwelcome house guest in my own head anymore.

"Knock-knock," Jasper murmured, sitting on the bed next to me. "You in there?"

"Yeah, sorry."

He paused, troubling his full lower lip with his teeth unconsciously. I wanted him to let me do that instead.

"Look," he started with a gust of breath. "I don't know if I did something or… or what. I mean, if I did, I'm sorry." I closed the laptop and turned to face him fully. He squinted at me, like if he could just focus he'd be able to tell what I was feeling. "Are you mad at me?"

I shook my head, unsure of exactly what I should say. I mean, I couldn't exactly explain my behavior, not to him. Not out loud.

"It's just, you seem so angry. Or distant, or both. I know there's something churning in your head, but you won't talk to me, man. So I started to think, maybe it's something about me…"

_It is you. Apparently, it's always been you._

I wanted to reassure him, to rub the tension from his shoulders and promise him I could never be mad at him. I reached for his hand, but caught myself in time. Instead, pushed myself to a sitting position, and found myself merely inches from his glorious, distraught face. The proximity made my skin tingle and my face flush. His eyes were so wide, I wondered what it'd be like to swim in water that blue.

"It's not you. Honest. I'm not angry at you." I swallowed hard, and ended on a whisper. "You're perfect." He blinked numbly, still confused, and I thought back on Ali's words. "Things are changing."

"In a good way?" He ceased any and all movements, like my next words would decide if he had the strength to keep sitting beside me or would crumble to dust on the comforter.

Again, I wanted to wrap my fingers around his own and tell him not to worry, because I would never let go. I wanted to nibble his pink bottom lip until he had no choice but to latch onto mine. I wanted to push him back into the pillows and show him exactly how much things had changed.

Instead, I opened my mouth to answer. "I think s—"

"Knock knock, bitches!" The screeching voice startled me, and I jerked myself away from Jasper. I felt guilty and ashamed, and didn't know why. His bedroom door immediately swung open to reveal the Empress of Bitchdom and Push-up Bras, Rosalie.

She looked back and forth between us, curling her top lip in disdain. "Jeez. What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing!" Jasper demanded hastily. "Wasn't it locked?"

"Whatever." She waved him off with a flip of her hair before turning her eyes on me. "Can you, like, shoo?"

I rolled my eyes toward Jasper but, for once, he seemed too unnerved to stand up to her. I rolled my eyes again and dragged myself over to his bathroom.

I flipped on the tap, intent on splashing some cold water on my face. What the fuck was that? Had I, in my attempts not to humiliate myself in front of Jasper, completely missed that I'd left him feeling ignored and rejected? How could he even think that? I had been one subtle lean away from placing my lips on his, feeling the intake of his breaths as his chest pushed against mine. Now that I knew what I wanted, nothing else could completely overwrite those thoughts.

What could I tell him? Not the truth – not this soon. I had only known I liked him for a day, well, two days. Thinking back… maybe it was really a week and a half, or – Jesus – how long had I wanted this? How long ago had I attached myself to Jasper just in the hopes of having something more?

If only I could talk to him about it. Slowly bring it up, or return his well-meaning caresses and spot his reaction. Would he, could he respond the same way to me as I had to him?

I flicked the tap off as I moved to wipe my face on a towel. As soon as I did, Rosalie's voice rang clearly through the closed door.

"I don't get it, Jas. What's the appeal? He's weaseled his way so far into our family, Mom's baking him a fucking cake?"

I should have stopped listening, obviously, or even turned the water back on for another few minutes, but Rosalie's string of daily tirades was getting a bit old, and I wanted to hear him shut her down. Besides, I myself had always wondered what he thought about having a live-in best friend.

He started with the obvious. "He's my best friend, Rose"

There was silence for a moment, and I wished I could see their faces, or hear their thoughts.

Finally, Rosalie answered with a scoff. "Yeah? And that's all?"

My chest constricted. What had she seen? Or heard? What had I let slip? Damnit, I had worked so hard to hide this from Jasper, but if Rosalie had noticed…

"He fucking worships the ground you walk on. He's your biggest fan, like a loyal rescue puppy."

I was both relieved and pissed off at the same time. She didn't think I was gay – she thought I was his personal cheerleader, the loser that Jasper let hang around out of pity.

"Rose, when are you going to learn to shut up about things you know nothing about?"

She sounded exasperated. "When you admit this isn't normal! His entire life is built around you."

"Shut up!" he hissed. "Not so loud, okay? It doesn't bother me."

Doesn't bother him?

"Look, the way things are with Edward and me, I like it this way."

I was through the doorway and into the room before I even had a chance to think, heedless of my healing knee.

"Like it what way?"

Rosalie screeched, "You eavesdropping little shit!" but Jasper just paled and choked out my name in surprise.

"You like it what way?" I repeated.

"You-" he swallowed hard, "you heard?"

My phone started to ring in my pocket, but I ignored it. "Jasper, she's full of shit. Tell her I'm not just some charity case you brought home."

"Are you kidding," Rosalie interjected. "You should have seen yourself when you moved here. Jasper let you sleep over 'cause you looked like you were going to fucking cry if he didn't."

I was having trouble keeping my breathing even. I looked to him, stunned, and my throat felt stuck. "That's not true. Right?"

He stepped towards me, his hands open and outstretched. "Edward. Rose just doesn't understand. You're still my best friend."

Oh my god. That wasn't a no – I couldn't even believe how much that wasn't a no.

He was supposed to defend me. Why wasn't he defending me?

"But why, Jasper? 'Cause you felt bad for me?"

He didn't answer, and instead looked at his feet with a thick swallow. Even without words, the way his expression dripped guilt told me I had just heard something I was never supposed to know. If Rosalie had made that story up he would have just called her on it. Obviously, she was speaking the truth and I wasn't sure I could stomach any more of her memories.

"Rose," he ground out, still not tearing his gaze from me. "Would you fuck off already?"

Her and her black cloud of distrust oozed out of Jasper's room as she commented, "No wonder he never asked you to leave, if you'd act like this."

This boy, he was supposed to be my best friend. He was the best thing I'd found. I had even – oh god! I had touched myself, thinking of him!

"Jasper, please. Tell me you don't pity me."

I really was starting to feel sick, especially as it dawned on me that it was probably all true. Hadn't I just realized that every day of my life was based around Jasper Cullen? Hadn't I attached myself years ago with no hope of being shaken loose? And all because I wanted more, whether I had known it then or not.

My phone shrilled insistently again, and before I could subject myself to his answer I pulled it from my pocket and flipped it open.

"What?" I demanded.

Silence.

I turned my back to Jasper as I pulled the phone from my ear to actually look at the screen.

It flashed '**Alice 0:10**', counting the seconds of our mute conversation. I put the phone back to my ear and asked, more gently this time, "Alice, are you there?"

More silence followed, and I was about to hang up thinking it was an accidental call. The clock above the desk told me it was nearly midnight. As I moved the phone away again I heard a little gasping sound. I pressed the receiver to one ear and plugged the other with my finger.

Sure enough, there was a faint and choppy sniffling noise.

"Ali? Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

A deep, wet cry cut roughly through the speaker, and the sound was unmistakable.

"Can you hear me, Ali? What's wrong? Where are you?"

Her breathing went through a range of pitiful sounds, and I could tell that she was trying to gasp around the sobs to form words.

Jasper put his hand on my shoulder but I shook him off, turning even farther away. I didn't know what was happening to Alice, but I was starting to panic and couldn't deal with him.

"Where are you?" I demanded from the phone.

I heard a loud swallow, followed by the word, "Home." Her voice sounded muffled and weak, like she had shrunk in size and was yelling for help, but couldn't make her voice loud enough.

"I'm coming," I promised. "I'll be there. Don't move. I'll be right there."

I hated to hang up on her, but I couldn't drive as fast as I wanted and hold the phone at the same time.

"I'm leaving."

"Is everything alright?" He sounded nervous, and I couldn't bring myself to give a shit. I had bigger priorities at the moment.

"No. I'm going home to find Alice."

"What's wrong?"

"I have no idea, but I have to go now." I grabbed my sweatshirt and car keys from the couch.

"Wait," he said, finally springing into action, "I'll drive."

"Don't bother." I didn't even spare him a glance.

"Edward, come on. I just—"

"No." I planted my feet and made sure I looked him in the eye. "I don't need your pity, or your help."

He followed me into the hallway and to the front door, saying, "You shouldn't even be driving."

I ignored him.

"At least call to let me know you got there safe."

I threw a hand up without turning around. "Fine. Whatever."

Thirty seconds later, I was peeling out of the Cullen's driveway, Jasper and my knee be damned.

* * *

**Okay, now you can go ahead and hate Rosalie. But if you do, tell me about it. **

**Seriously, this is my first cliffie, I want to know what you think!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so astounded. With the last chapter, we flew by 100 reviews, which has been my dream ever since I was just a little baby FF lurker. ****A huge thank you to everyone that has reviewed and given me extra-inspirational support. (You know who you are :P)**

**A/N Everything Twilight-ish belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just play. **

* * *

_"At least call to let me know you got there safe."_

_I threw a hand up without turning around. "Fine. Whatever."_

_Thirty seconds later, I was peeling out of the Cullen's driveway, Jasper and my knee be damned._

* * *

I was frantic on my way to find Alice, imagining the worst possible scenarios. Was she injured? Did she have an accident and hurt herself? Had someone broken in? If she was home, where was Dad? Did he know what was going on?

The questions were endless but somehow, during the twenty four-turned-eighteen minute drive from the Cullen's to my house, my mind kept drifting back to Jasper. Why had he said all that shit? It didn't bother him that my life revolved around him? He liked that I was his own personal cheerleader? What the fuck?

The way he said those things made it seem like only two options were possible. Either, one, he liked keeping a lapdog around to make himself feel better or, two, he didn't have the heart to kick me to the curb. Neither option sounded very appealing, but neither sounded like the Jasper I had known for the last three years either. He was supportive and selfless, or, at least, I'd thought he was. He listened endlessly when I was upset about something, and gave up going to parties he knew I wouldn't want to attend. It's like there was one Jasper I had felt lucky to know all along, and the Jasper that had started talking when Rosalie opened her big fat trap.

Fucking Rosalie. I swear, if she wasn't a girl…

At the very least, I thought Jasper and I were friends. Like, real friends. The kind that could tell each other anything and not worry about having it blurted out later just to impress some girl. The kind that could share classes and meals and hobbies and beds and still want to spend more time together. Didn't that make us at least friends? That's all I really wanted, anyway. I had decided to close the lid on the "or something more" box the moment I stepped out of that house.

My thoughts were cut short when I pulled onto my street.

I skidded the Volvo to a halt in the driveway of our one story fixer upper, the headlights bathing the peeling garage door. I had barely turned off the engine before I launched myself from the car, throwing the door shut behind me.

Then I realized that if there was a burglar, maybe I should be a little stealthier. Maybe I shouldn't have been so eager to come alone. Maybe I should have let Jasper come along, or asked Carlisle for help. Maybe I should have a weapon.

I climbed back in to fumble in the glove box, but found only a flashlight. That would have to do.

I ran on tiptoes across the grass to the front door but, as I fumbled for my keys as quietly as possible in the dark, I heard a faint nose.

Sniffling.

I whipped around, but couldn't see anyone. "Hello?"

More sniffling.

"Ali? Are you out here? Are you okay?" I whisper-yelled.

I moved toward the sound of her harsh breathing, closer to the sidewalk. With only the clouds obscuring the moonlight, I could just make out her petite form sitting in the center of the walkway. I was relieved to see her alone.

I ran to her. "Ali, are you hurt? Are you okay? Talk to me." I crouched in front of her and took hold of her arms, shaking her gently. "Are you hurt?"

She was still crying, wiping tears and snot away with the back of her hands.

I pulled her to me, letting myself fall into a sitting position on the concrete. "Jesus, Ali. I thought you were being held hostage or dying or something!"

"Sorry. It's just, just…" Her voice was muffled as she continued to cry into her hands. Her forehead pressed hard against my chest. I unzipped my oversized Forks High Track Team sweatshirt and pulled it down my arms before swinging it around to cover her. Instead of pulling her arms through it, I just wrapped it around her and zipped it up around her knees.

Then I leaned back to see her face. "Ali, you have to tell me what happened."

Her breaths were erratic as she sniffled and cried, but she raised her head to look at me. With each breath came the word, "He," over and over.

If she was okay, why was she this upset? What was she even doing here? Was someone else hurt? My eyes flickered to the dark house. "Ali, is Dad okay?"

She nodded once, still trying to get her breathing under control.

I had no idea what was going on. He? Who was he? If Dad was fine, I didn't know why she would be sitting in our front yard crying about a he. Maybe there was some boy I didn't know about that had broken her heart?

I sighed for the innocence of my poor baby sister. She had been pretty insecure ever since Mom died. Sometimes I feared the rest of the big bad world would be enough to break her.

"Come on, Teeny," I said gently, doing my best to maintain eye contact even in the weak moonlight bathing our front yard. "You gotta tell me what happened or I can't make it better."

After another low whimper, she blurted, "He hates me!"

Oh, boy…

"No one hates you, sweetie. I promise. No one does."

She rubbed one balled hand against her soaked eyelashes before looking back up at me, her face still wet and puffy. "He does!" she cried. "He does! He told me."

"Who told you?"

"Dad. He hates me."

"Of course he doesn't," I promised even as I felt the gravity of this seep in. I swept the palm of my hand across her back in large, steady circles. "Why would he hate you?"

To make out her mumbles, I had to lean in until my disheveled hair flopped over hers and we were just one big tangled mess huddling under the moonlight.

".. had a bottle out."

It was barely a whisper on a sigh, but it was all I needed to think the worst.

"Did he hurt you?"

It was that beat, that brief pause in between my question and her answer, where her eyes flashed up to mine and I could actually see her deciding to say 'no'. That moment was all I really needed to hear.

She couldn't even look at me. "No."

I had to grit my teeth to not raise my voice. Yelling gets me nowhere. It would do no good to yell, especially at someone who'd just been…

"Teeny," I explained in my most soothing voice, "you can tell me anything. It's okay. I'm not going to get mad. You can tell me. Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes were still glued to her hands which were wringing themselves free of feeling in her lap.

"He tripped."

Not getting mad. I'm not getting mad. Not now, not in front of her. That is not what she needs.

"Where did he hurt you?"

"He didn't," she insisted but, in doing so, hunched slightly to favor one shoulder.

Well, there was that answer.

I decided not to make a big deal of it, for now. We could address it when she was ready to talk about it.

"Okay. But, Ali, why weren't you at the Swans?"

She pulled the collar of my sweatshirt up self-consciously. "They had some thing to go to up at La Push."

The Rez? That was unexpected. Still, I should have known. I should have been spending less time worrying about what Jasper did or didn't know about this weekend, and more time with my little sister. I should have been there, to protect her. That's what big brothers are for.

"I'm sorry this happened, Ali."

Without warning, Alice reached her arms around my neck and was wracked by a fresh round of deep sobs. I wrapped both arms all the way across her back, my empty hands curling into fists. My teeth clenched and, for a moment, I had to remind myself not to squeeze the fragile girl in my arms with all the fury coursing through me.

"He doesn't hate you," I promised blindly.

I'm not sure that was the right thing to say. Was it better to convince Ali that our negligent, abusive father really loved us no matter what? I certainly didn't want her to think he hit her because he loved her. But I couldn't let the one parent we had left convince her she was worthless.

Really, I'd had no idea he was capable of this anymore. Of course, he had never taken a hand to me. I'm sure he knew that even back then I could hold my own weight against him. I don't know that he ever actually harmed Ali, even, but he'd come close a few times. I just thought that had all ended, when the drinking did.

And that brought me back to the root of the problem. Sometime soon I'd have to make a big show of turning up and confiscating his '2 Years Sober' chip.

A drunk Dad was a lonely Dad, who spent his numbed hours lamenting of all the things that were shit because she wasn't here. Like his sobriety.

Sometimes though, that Masen temper came out.

"He does! He said he hates me!" She took another shuddering breath. "He said, with eyes like these, how could he not hate me?"

Jesus. When would he forgive us for being related to a dead woman?

"Okay, Ali," I commanded. "I'm here. It's okay. Tell me everything that happened."

Through her heaving sobs and runny-nosed sniffles, she did. She told me about walking into the kitchen to get a cup of water and finding Dad with a glass of melty amber-stained ice and a half empty bottle of Johnny Walker. He demanded that she not look at him with those eyes, that she get those eyes out of his house this goddamned minute. He asked how she could stand to look at herself without fucking screaming.

I'd pushed her back when she said that, to really see her. She looked devastated, and exhausted. Her bed-hair was tousled and wispier than usual, mimicking more closely the slight curl that Mom's hair had had. Her eyes, I knew, were the same cut-grass green that both Mom and I bore. The point of her nose and quirk of her lips all spoke clearly of her heritage. And her pajamas—oh, damn.

She was wearing long pants and an oversized sleep shirt with little lacy ruffles that poked out above the collar of my sweatshirt. It was too dark to make out the exact color, but I'd be willing to bet money that the pale color I saw was periwinkle blue. I realized, in that moment, that Alice had never looked more like the central photo displayed in our living room. In fact, the more she grew and matured, the more and more she was a walking replica of our beloved mother.

No wonder that had set him off – and gone off he had, apparently for over half an hour, making sure she knew exactly how sacrilegious her existence was. It seems he felt he was being haunted by the image of his lost wife, and was never afforded any peace, whether she was around or not. He hated it. He hated her.

I, too, was a culprit, daring to look at him in his own home, but Ali had taken the brunt of it.

I wished it had been me, instead of her. I probably would have been able to fight back.

No, really, I would have been able to grab the bottle, pour it down the drain, hit him harder than he'd ever dared to hit Alice, and slam the door behind me.

But Ali, no.

"And that was when he… tripped?" I prompted.

She just nodded against my chest, her nose pressing awkwardly between my ribs.

Alice didn't remember as much as I did from life in Phoenix, only being eight when we left, but she remembered the loving father he had been. I knew she remembered him balancing her bike when she was trying to ditch the training wheels, and how he used to make up little songs before we fell asleep. How Mom would play the piano and he would dance around with Ali on Christmas Eve, telling us tales of Santa and saying the reindeer would leave tracks on the roof, if only it would snow in Arizona.

She still held onto those memories, that notion of being loved and cared for. I don't know why I didn't… maybe because I had to let them go in order to take over the responsibilities Dad refused to harness. Like making sure she still felt that way.

Maybe that was why she still thought that, underneath it all, Dad was just waiting to show her all the parental affection she had been starved of. I knew better though. And if I hadn't had my hands full with my devastated sister, I might have barreled in there to let him know exactly how shitty his parenting had become. With my fists.

I didn't really know what I could do for her, here, sitting on the wet concrete in the middle of the night, except shield her from the wind. I wished, suddenly, that they did have classes on parenting so that I could buy the cliff notes and figure out how the fuck I was supposed to make a fourteen year old girl happy and self-sufficient. All I could think of, though, was what Mom used to do. Ali had been very young, but it used to work.

I pushed the hair from her forehead, giving her a solid, brotherly kiss, and rocked her back and forth. I whispered that I loved her. I promised that it would all be okay and that I would take care of it.

In nothing but a long-sleeve shirt of jersey cotton, I wasn't sure how much warmth I could provide for her, but her tears finally slowed, and I started to think about where we would spend the night.

Not here, obviously.

I was annoyed when, before I had really reached a conclusion, a car approached our block. The headlights bathing each lawn in their obnoxious brightness were crawling closer slowly. When it pulled in behind my Volvo, I clutched for the flashlight I had dropped on the grass.

Momentarily blinded by the beams I'd looked into, I couldn't tell who was getting out of the car, but I heard several doors open and shut.

"Who's there?"

"Edward?" I recognized that voice.

"Carlisle?"

"Oh, dear, Edward, are you alright?"

Within moments, both Carlisle and Esme were peering down at us. They both looked disheveled, with jackets pulled on over their nightshirts. Carlisle crouched and reached for Alice, asking if she was hurt.

She turned her head towards him, still resting it against me. "I'm just cold."

I rubbed my hands up and down her arms to create friction, but looked to the shadow I could barely make out as Carlisle. "Why are you here?"

"I got worried," came a voice from behind them. "You said you'd call."

"I hadn't gotten around to it," I responded, defensively.

My night vision was returning and I could see Jasper, several feet away, toeing at the slick grass self-consciously.

"It's been, like, two hours man. You limped out of the house, and the roads are wet, and we had no idea if Alice was okay."

"We were all worried," Esme explained. "I couldn't believe Jasper just let you walk out without letting us know." She frowned severely at our lack of jackets.

I assumed he hadn't filled them in on the whole night, then.

"Come on, then. Let's warm you two up."

When I saw Carlisle's gaze flicker to the front door of our house, I whispered, "We're not going in there."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered. "But I'm going to help you to the car. You still shouldn't be on your leg that much yet. I wish you'd asked one of us to drive."

I thought of Jasper's offer, but ignored it immediately.

Esme reached to help Alice up and Carlisle offered me a hand. Considering I had only been off the crutches for a day, it was a welcome gesture. He was right, too. Without the adrenaline, my swollen knee was protesting having been used and abused. Damned leg. The last thing I needed was another weakness.

I loathed the idea of returning to the Cullen mansion, with all its fine décor and happy family photos, but I climbed into the back seat of the Mercedes behind Alice, fueled by the simple goal of getting her as far away from our father as possible.

Soon she was dozing against my shoulder, only stirring when we hit a bump. Carlisle and Esme whispered to each other in the front seat, and I could see them stealing glances at us in the rear view mirror.

Once Alice had been asleep for a while, Jasper cleared his throat softly. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," I clarified, and didn't bother to elaborate.

He sighed, but turned to watch the foliage of Forks flash by under the streetlights.

Once inside the Cullen's oddly-bright home, Esme rushed off to find some blankets. I stood awkwardly in the large, open living room while Alice leaned heavily on me, muttering, "What're we doing here?"

"We're just gonna sleep here tonight, okay?"

All the commotion must have woken Rosalie, because she was loitering around the stairwell in some type of pink homage-to-butterflies pajamas, looking rumpled and nosy. She whispered something to Jasper, who glowered and gave a retort. I hoped he was telling her to mind her own business, but she just leaned against the railing and watched the proceedings like she was behind a one-way mirror and I wouldn't know she was a rubbernecking bitch.

Esme came bustling down the hallway, pillow in hand. "Alright, Alice. The bed's all set up for you. I don't know why we never put you in there, Edward, I'm sure it's much more comfortable than that old couch."

I just said, "Thanks for doing this Esme," as we followed her back down the hallway. I hated to rely on her like this, but I had to do what was best for Alice tonight.

"Of course. You know you're both always welcome here."

I made sure Alice was settled, telling her I loved her and everything would be fine in the morning. She accepted my vows numbly and curled up on her side, refusing to say anything more.

When I closed the door as soundlessly as possible, Esme was waiting for me in the hall.

"Would you like to talk about it, Edward?"

I shook my head, letting my wayward hair fall into my face in the hopes she wouldn't see my embarrassment. What could I say? That Alice now ranked below a bottle of scotch, because at least he handled that with care? That she and I were the certain shade of green that tainted all his nightmares?

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

"I don't really know. I'll have to talk to her tomorrow."

"Do you know exactly what happened?"

I tried to look anywhere but at her, anxious as a fly under a microscope, but I figured I would have to explain it sooner or later. "Dad just said some stuff that, you know, hurt."

She made sure to gain eye contact when she said, "As long as that's all. But you know, words aren't the only thing that can hurt."

I backed up, wary of her insight.

"Edward, sometimes there's a fine line between anger and abuse." Her voice dropped off as she finished her sentence, practically mouthing the word 'abuse' into the silent hallway.

I was mortified to know the Masen misfortunes really were that transparent, but my resolve hardened. I had to fix this, I had to make sure Ali was taken care of, but I would not lean on the Cullens to help me. I had already inflicted enough of the Masen household on them, and this wasn't their burden to bear.

Esme looked so worried, though. The way her eyebrows shot up and her lips pursed, the way her arms seemed caught between reaching for me and digging into her own pockets, her whole appearance spoke of genuine concern.

"She won't really say what happened, but I'm going to take a few… precautions," I assured her.

"Would you like Carlisle to take a look at her?"

My anxiety rose even higher with the thought that she might need to be checked by a doctor but, if she'd allow it, it might be a good idea.

"If she wants."

I moved to step past her, but the light touch of her hand on my arm stopped me.

"Edward, are _you_ alright?"

I could barely manage to think about that question, the way the emotions just welled up within me, threatening to reach up and choke me. Anger and grief warred with each other – anger at what I'd let happen, and grief over what we'd become.

My dilemma must have shown on my face because suddenly Esme reached to pull me into a tight embrace. It caught me off guard, and I hesitated to return it.

My hands hovered behind her back until she started to pull away. The thought of even just a few seconds where I didn't have to pretend that Edward Masen could handle anything… I tensed with the fear of losing such an opportunity. Turning my head so I could rest it on her shoulder, just momentarily, I returned her hug.

I'd missed this: the idea that hugs were the first step to solving every problem. I'd forgotten their healing power.

With a supportive pat on my back, Esme pulled away. "Maybe you should think about staying here," she suggested. "Permanently."

"I… I couldn't."

In fact, that was the exactly opposite of what I should do. But Esme's concern and parental selflessness felt almost too valuable to walk away from. I wanted so badly to stay, just to know there was one place I was safe, and loved.

But I wasn't – not here, not anymore.

Again, Esme used that maternal sixth sense of hers to sense my uncertainty.

"You must be tired, dear. We can talk about it in the morning. If you need anything, just let Jas know. I already had him set up the couch for you."

And just like that, my dilemma was solved. I knew why Jas was helping: pity. They all did this out of pity.

The truth was ugly, and hard to face. Sure that I couldn't handle any more disappointing truths tonight, I pushed myself through Jasper's room to the faded couch, where I immediately started gathering up the blankets.

I refused to acknowledge him, but he inserted himself into my field of vision before he said anything.

"Edward, please stop."

I grabbed the pillow too.

"Please. I just want to talk to you."

Once I had all my stuff gathered, I afforded him a glance.

"There's nothing to talk about."

He held himself very still, but rolled his eyes up to look at the ceiling. For a brief moment, I thought he was trying not to cry, but he just sighed.

"I just want to know that you're okay."

"I said I was fine."

"Edward, please. Stop acting like I'm trying to hurt you. None of that crap Rose said was true."

I had no intention of opening up that conversation, so I headed for the door. When I heard his footsteps pad across the carpet, though, I pivoted to face him. "Seriously Jasper? You're gonna stand there and tell me you see this, see us," I gestured between myself and the guest room where Ali was feigning sleep, "and not feel bad for us? I call bullshit on that."

"It's not that simple, man."

"Yes. Actually, it is." I backed up until I had cleared his door frame, back out into the hallways. "I'll clear out tomorrow, okay?"

I pulled the door shut as I left, leaving him to fume or wallow or whatever the fuck he felt like doing now that the truth was out.

I didn't know what I'd tell the rest of the Cullens in the morning, but, starting tomorrow, there was no way I was spending another night in this house. And there was definitely no way I was sleeping in a room with Jasper.

I thought I'd never be able to sleep, given my desire to put my fist through something. These walls weren't mine for punching though and, I reminded myself, that's exactly the kind of thinking that got us here in the first place. It was not okay to equate anger and violence.

I would not be like my father. I knew I had his temper which, honestly, scared me, but I'd vowed that I would never let it control me.

The Masen men are strong, he'd say. We fight for what we believe in. Well, apparently, we fight for a lot of other reasons too, but I'd rather isolate myself from everyone I loved than inflict his particular brand of belief on anyone. I didn't want to be a monster, like him.

The Chesterfield in the living room was wider and newer than Jasper's old Salvation Army cast-off and I forced myself through breathing exercises that eventually brought sleep. Luckily, I don't think I had a single dream all night.

Something loud, high-pitched… it wouldn't stop. I pushed my face deeper into the pillow, but the sound was still there. I groaned and tried to roll over, only to be met with the loud creaking of leather. What the…

I opened my eyes, disoriented. Everything was so bright. The ceiling seemed like it'd take more than one ladder to reach, and it was reflecting a sharp, sunny yellow.

Why was… oh, the Cullen's living room. I was still here. For a second I contemplated just throwing Ali in my car and hightail it, leaving Jasper to get a ride with the Bitch.

I groaned again when I realized my car was still at my dad's house. Damnit! Why hadn't I thought to drive it back behind Carlisle? Well, I knew why…

That shrill noise sounded again. What was that and how could I serve it a painful death?

I forced myself into a sitting position, mindful of keeping the blanket bunched in my lap to hide my newly habitual state of early-morning arousal, only to find that it wasn't a problem today.

Well, what do you know?

I ran my palm against my face and tugged on my hair to wake up just a bit more. The house seemed unexpectedly quiet, so I wandered toward the only sound I had heard: that beeping.

It had come from the kitchen, where I found Alice staring into the microwave with a stricken look on her face.

She turned to me without preamble and pouted, "I was going for mac'n'cheese."

One look into the microwave told me that she did not, actually, get mac and cheese. She got pasta with … crunch?

"What did you do?"

"Their kitchen is so fancy-schmancy. I did the best I could."

I reached out to ruffle her bedhead a bit, and she was too slow to stop me. She was still in her pajamas, and kept pulling on the left sleeve of her top self-consciously. It was, indeed, periwinkle blue. I decided not to comment though.

"Where is everyone?"

"Umm. Carlisle went to work, Esme's at a meeting but she'll be back soon, and Jasper and Rosalie are at school."

School? I looked for any appliance with a clock. "What time is it?"

**12:41 ** blinked the oven.

"Crap! Ali, why did you let me sleep in so late?"

She shrugged. "Esme called in for us. I didn't mind skipping."

"But I had a..." test. Oh well.

I grabbed the bowl from the microwave, scraped what I could into the disposal, and ran some water over it in the sink.

Then I stepped up to Ali and gave her a solid, big-brotherly hug.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

She shrugged out of my embrace.

"Not really. I'm fine. What's there to talk about?"

Umm…

"Uh. Well, what do you want to do about Dad?"

"Do? I don't want to do anything. Things are fine like they were."

Was she serious? Had she hit her head sometime between falling asleep miserable and ruining an 'Easy as 1, 2, 3' box of macaroni?

"Can you at least agree not to go home when I'm not there for a while?"

She picked at her fingernails. "That's fine. Whatever."

"You can talk to Carlisle, if you want."

"Why would I want to talk to him?"

I swallowed hard, but pressed on.

"Well, he's a doctor. And there's that patient-doctor confidentiality thing."

She leaned back, looking kind of pissed. "And why the fuck would I want to talk to a doctor?"

"Alice! Calm down, okay. I just meant, you know, in case there was anything you wanted to talk about. And I thought we were cutting back on the swearing thing?"

She rolled her eyes. "You were cutting back. I decided I don't care."

I reached for her to, I don't know, get a better look and find the real Alice somewhere in there, but she pulled back even farther.

"I'm fine, Edward! I just wanted some damn mac'n'cheese."

"Fine." Alice was the last person I wanted to fight with today.

I stood up, set the 'fancy-schmancy' microwave to cook on high for three minutes and said, "Try it again," before walking out of the kitchen.

I spent the first ten minutes wondering what the fuck was going on, and the next ten berating myself.

What was I doing wrong? Why was it suddenly Edward-Masen-sucks week? I lost to that fucker Black, somehow discovered that Jasper's not the best friend I thought he was, and now Alice resented any brotherly concern. Were things changing, or had I just been blind all along? I could have sworn things really were different a week ago. How could I get that time back?

The next ten minutes were spent halfheartedly hitting a pillow that couldn't fight back, and then I was back to berating myself.

Eventually, in a hopeless attempt to start the day over again, I showered. When I was dressed again, I found Bella and Charlie Swan in the kitchen with Alice.

"Hey there, Edward."

"Charlie."

"You kids doing alright?"

I peeked a glance at Alice, who was ignoring our little exchange, so I said, "As well as can be expected."

I figured that was up for interpretation, and he could think whatever he wanted. I guessed it depended on whatever Alice decided to tell him.

He stretched a bit and wiped his hands across the chest of his uniform, clearly restless. "Well, Alice, you ready to hit the road?"

Without another word she was up and by his side.

Charlie tipped his imaginary hat, and Bella gave me a little wave. "See ya, Edward."

Alice said another, and then they were gone.

Only about five minutes had gone by when I remembered, again, that I had no car. Charlie and his cruiser were probably already approaching the main part of town, and it'd be a real nuisance for them to come back and get me. Then again, I wanted so badly to get out of this house.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, but finally thought better of it. Alice obviously wanted to get as far away from me as she could.

I didn't know what was going through her head, and I wasn't done trying to figure it out. For now, though, if she wanted some space, I would give it to her. I just wished I could find some space for myself, too.

I could just run, I thought. Slip into some shorts, do a few stretches, and run.

I closed my eyes, truly contemplating it. The brisk air would feel good on my face, and I longed for the clarity that focusing on the slap of my feet against pavement would bring. It couldn't be more than ten miles to my dad's house and on a good day, if I pushed myself, I could make that.

But this wasn't a good day. I had already tapped into all my energy resources to be Edward the Independent and Edward the Guardian, and even the long night's sleep hadn't helped me refuel.

Plus, it's not like I was in a hurry to see my old man again. I figured I'd ask Esme for a ride home when she was back from her meeting, which should be long before Jas finished up with track for the day.

At least, I hoped it would.

In the meantime, I sat on the white leather couch and listened to the old grandfather clock against the wall tick away the day.

My time at the Cullens' was coming to a close. I had already tried once, and failed, to get out of here, but I couldn't stay knowing that all the happy memories I'd made here were based on a lie. While they had fed me and listened through the sob stories of my life, I had apparently given nothing worthwhile in return.

I propped my elbows on my knees and hung my head in my hands. I hated to think that Jasper had gotten nothing out of our friendship all these years, but I couldn't really think of one thing I'd done for him. I mean, we'd hung out and had fun. We did our homework and our track training together. I'd like to think I was a willing ear for him as much as he was for me. But then again, maybe I'd kept him from all the events and parties he'd wanted to go to. He might have just figured he'd have enough time to party once he went off to Cornell next year, and didn't have the heart to throw me out before then.

I guess, when you have as much as the Cullens, it doesn't take much to keep an extra person around, no matter how much baggage they carry.

Still, though. My time as Edward the Leech was almost over. All I needed was a ride home, and then I wouldn't ask for anything, ever again.

**

* * *

**

**Reviews make Edward feel better.**


	8. Chapter 8

**An extra special thank you to Elvelethril, who has gone completely above and beyond in supporting me and this story  
**

**A/N Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

_

* * *

I guess, when you have as much as the Cullens, it doesn't take much to keep an extra person around, no matter how much baggage they carry._

_Still, though. My time as Edward the Leech was almost over. All I needed was a ride home, and then I wouldn't ask for anything, ever again. _

* * *

I was starting to get restless waiting on the Cullen's pristine couch, so I folded all the blankets I'd used and put them back in the linen closet, and then did the same for the guest room Alice had slept in. She'd left nothing in there except a glass of water, which I brought out to put in the dishwasher. Then I went into Jasper's room and gathered up the track bag he had lugged inside for me.

I went through his drawers looking for any of my clothes that had been misplaced with his laundry and found a couple shirts from my days in Phoenix and a pair of running shorts. Most of the things in the bathroom I'd just borrowed from Jasper when I was staying over, like the shampoo and toothpaste, but I had my own toothbrush, sunscreen, and contact case and solution. I gathered up those things and dropped them in my bag as well. Grabbing my backpack from beside his desk, I brought both to the front door, ready to leave as soon as Esme got back.

For some reason, I hated the thought of them cleaning up after me. I wanted it to be like I'd never been here.

I startled when the doorknob twisted and I stood back to greet Esme. I stood back even farther when I realized it was Rosalie getting home instead.

She glared like she'd discovered me mouth-breathing over photos of her. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Um, I need a ride home."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that. Mom's client today is really picky; she probably won't be done for hours."

Hours? No. That wasn't good enough. I needed to get out now, before Jasper came home.

"Is there any way you could? Take me, I mean?" I asked tremulously.

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes and brushed past me.

"Please?" I knew I really shouldn't ask. I didn't want her thinking I owed her anything, ever, and it's not like I could stand to be near her, but it would be easier if I didn't have to face anyone else.

She paused in the opening to the hallway, looking over her shoulder. "Why should I? You know you hate being in my spitting-radius."

I sighed. "Rosalie. I know you hate me," I stressed, "but you win, okay? Just take me home and I'll stay there."

She seemed to consider this almost-seriously for a moment. "Promise?"

"Promise," I nodded.

She dropped her backpack off of one shoulder and stalked in the direction of her room. I didn't even bother following her, chalking it up as a lost cause.

"Alright Masen. But you don't talk and you carry your own shit."

She was shifting a heavily-accessorized keychain in her hand. She had also traded her backpack for a huge ass purse, and I didn't see the point. It fit the same amount of stuff, and they were both pink anyway.

Surprised, I nodded again, and carried my stuff through the front door.

As requested, I didn't say a word. Rosalie drove even faster than Jasper, a trait they had both picked up from Carlisle. Jasper had never complained about my clunker of a Volvo that couldn't beat sixty-five, but maybe now he'd look into getting a sports car too.

Somehow Rosalie remembered where I lived without needing directions, and I pulled my belongings from her backseat silently when we rolled up to the curb.

I knew this may well be the last contact I ever had with a Cullen, and I just couldn't stop the question from slipping past my lips. I had to ask, one last time, even though I already knew the answer. At least from Rosalie, it wouldn't be sugar-coated and spliced with lies.

"You really all pity me?"

She rolled her eyes so dramatically I thought she'd pull a muscle or something. "Jeez, do you ever quit? Besides, it's not like you need us to anymore, with the massive pity party you're obviously throwing for yourself."

It was foolish of me to even think the answer could change, and I couldn't think of anything to say to that. She sped away, her blond pony tail flailing in the wind.

When I got inside I went directly to my room, hiding out so Dad wouldn't notice me whenever he got home. That seemed like a good plan, for a while, but eventually I needed to find some food.

Around nine-thirty I was too hungry to wait anymore so I chanced a trip to the kitchen, grabbing an apple and reheating a slice of old pizza I found in the fridge.

I had been thinking about what Rosalie said before – all of it, from the fanboy/kicked puppy bit to how I was feeling sorry for myself.

It felt sacrilegious to agree with her, but she was probably right. I had been feeling pretty lousy. I had just lost… so much. My delusions of friendship and something more with Jasper were definitely over, and who knew where I stood with Ali. Would she just act like nothing had happened, or would she continue to give me the brush off?

Was there any way we would be able to talk about what actually happened with Dad last night – truthfully and openly, so at least she didn't have to carry the weight of that alone? Part of me hoped she was filling the Swans in on everything, but somehow I guessed Bella was only getting the glossed version of it too. It was embarrassing for both of us to reveal how truly far the Masens had fallen, though the proof was frequent and easy to spot. I knew it did me no good to wallow in my failures though.

I definitely wasn't going to bother her tonight – she needed time to cool down, and probably to come to terms with what she was feeling first. But tomorrow, I promised myself, I'd make time for the two of us to talk. Maybe after school.

I spent the rest of the night listening to Elliott Smith on my iPod and lamenting the loss of what I thought had been my best friend.

Alright, so it was a pity party. So sue me.

The next morning was too bright and too early, but I covered my neck, face and arms with sunscreen and went to pick up the girls. I also popped a Tylenol so I could drive without my leg bothering me. Usually I picked up Jasper even if I slept at my own place, but I assumed he'd be smart enough to grab a ride with Rosalie.

At the Swan's house Bella came out with some other girl I didn't recognize, but I watched the door attentively waiting for Alice and refused to spare her a glance. I wanted to see how Alice looked, before she had the chance to put on her falsely-happy face and pretend nothing had happened, just in case that was her plan for the day. My goal was to predict her mood and avoiding pissing her off too early.

Bella climbed into the backseat and the new girl grabbed shotgun. I knew Alice would kick her to the back when she got here, so I didn't bother taking my eyes off the door.

"Edward, are we gonna stare a hole through the house, or are we gonna go?"

I turned to the petulant girl beside me and gasped.

"Alice?"

"Yeah?" she challenged, looking me directly in the eye, and I gasped again.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Her voice was loud and screechy in the small car. "Can we just drive now?"

Alice had most certainly done something. I looked to Bella in the rearview mirror, but she was studiously avoiding my gaze.

Alice was barely Alice. Her usual bright colors and layered clothes were replaced with tight black jeans, all-black Converse and a camouflage shirt full of washed-out greens. Her hair was gone, mostly. What had been longish and layered auburn hair was now barely three inches, and spiked out in a pixie cut. It was also jet black.

That alone would have been enough to send my mind spinning, but she hadn't stopped there. When she'd looked at me, and I'd finally seen her eyes – what had she done?

She was wearing light brown contact lenses but, as with most colored contacts, they failed to fully cover up her natural irises and some pinpoints of green showed through. The effect was eerie… it seemed to lighten the brown, making it into an uneven honeyed color.

She looked nothing like the Alice I'd grown up with, especially without the telltale green of her eyes to give her away. And I had definitely already pissed her off.

I probably could have handled that better.

I should have known it was her right away, if not from her size then from the smell of Banana Boat Watermelon sunscreen – at least that hadn't changed.

Bella jumped out of the silent car immediately once I had parked and Alice went to too, but I put a hand on her backpack before she could grab it.

"Ali, honey. I'm sorry I freaked. Can we talk?"

She stepped completely out of the car before yanking her backpack from me.

"No." Then she slammed the door.

God damnit.

Jasper was late to first period, but he had a note. I pretended not to notice.

I made sure to leave every class immediately, arrive at the next just before the bell, and hide out in the library during lunch. I felt ridiculous, but I was worried that if Jasper caught up to me he would want to talk, and I just didn't think I could listen to any of his half-assed explanations. I knew I wouldn't be able to retain any sense of composure.

It didn't matter how many clever ways he managed to evade the question, the truth was he did pity me and Alice. It was all over his face when he'd said it 'wasn't that simple.' All he had to do was say no. He'd had so many chances. I'd asked him, point-blank, if what Rosalie'd said was true. I'd asked him to tell me he didn't feel bad for us. And he just never said no.

If I was honest with myself, I was also worried that if I ran into Jasper he would not want to talk. It would only confirm what I already knew but, still, I wanted to save myself the pain of watching him reject me in public.

After school, only Bella was waiting for me at my car.

"Hey Bella. Where's Alice?"

"She said to tell you she was staying late and would get a ride on her own."

"What is she staying late for?"

"She said she decided to work tech for Midsummer Night's Dream."

I wasn't sure I bought that, and decided to take advantage of the fact that Bella, with her small-town innocence, couldn't lie for shit. "Bella, is that true?"

She turned red at being questioned, and ducked her head, but nodded. "Yeah, I saw her. They were having a meeting in the drama room."

"Alright then. Let's get you home."

It really wasn't a very long drive to Bella's, and about halfway through she started blushing again for absolutely no reason.

"Bella? What's up?"

"Nothing."

On any other day, I would have laughed. "Seriously. Is something bothering you?"

She glanced to me, and then out the window again. "It's just, um, where's Jasper?"

Oh. Yeah.

"At track."

"No, I mean, why didn't he come with us this morning? And how is he getting home if we're not waiting for him?"

"Jasper doesn't need a ride anymore," I said, refusing to go into more details. And then, even though I knew it wasn't fair, I asked, "How's Alice?"

Bella's voice was small, and directed to her shoes, but it wasn't hard to hear her with no other distractions.

"She said not to tell you."

I sighed. So she really was still mad at me. I just didn't exactly get why, other than my faux pas over her new look this morning.

"Bella, I hate to ask, but can you tell me anyway?"

That was a lie, I didn't hate to ask. I also knew Bella would probably crack, and I was really starting to worry about Ali.

"I don't know, Edward."

"Please?"

She tugged on her pony tail nervously. "She just keeps talking about how much she loves her new outfits."

"Where did she even get all that stuff? And the haircut?"

"Dad took us to Port Angeles yesterday after school. He took off from work to pick up Alice and thought we should find some distractions. And, um, she just wanted to go shopping for that stuff. I cut her hair last night."

"You did a nice job," I said for lack of anything better to say.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Did she, uh, tell you—"

"No," she cut me off. "She won't really talk about it."

That's what I was worried about. I knew I had to redouble my efforts to get some alone time with her, and make her see that I only wanted to help.

"Is… is she gonna be okay?"

I gave her my best smile, but it still broadcasted my uncertainty. "We'll work on it, okay? I love her and you love her, and that's a start."

She nodded and didn't say much else until I pulled into her driveway. Before she got out she turned her wide brown eyes on me and said, "I'm sorry you and Jasper are fighting." And then she shut the door.

I sighed forcefully. Once she was inside I hit the steering wheel just once, hard, before driving the few extra blocks to my dad's place.

The living room looked exactly as it had yesterday, and I started to get the feeling Dad hadn't even been home. I locked myself in my room again, focusing diligently on not feeling sorry for myself and getting my homework done instead.

When he still hadn't shown up by eight o'clock I decided he wasn't coming at all, and finished the last of the pizza in the fridge. Then I took the opportunity to snoop.

If Dad wasn't coming home, then I could look for that 2 Years Sober chip. Ideally I could confront him about letting both us and his sponsor down, but I wanted to have that chip in my hand when I did. That way when I walked away with it, he'd see what he'd lost.

A quick survey of the living room gave me nothing. I checked near Mom's photo and on the shelves of trinkets she used to collect. Then I did a rundown of the obvious places in the kitchen, i. e., near the liquor cabinet. It had stood symbolically empty for quite a while but a quick check told me, yep, he had restocked it – mostly with whiskey.

The bastard.

I was hesitant to check his room because that seemed like a more severe invasion of his privacy. The door was never locked, so I did go in but only glanced around. It wasn't on any surfaces that I could see, and I didn't want to risk opening his bedside table and finding something I couldn't un-see.

Damnit. I knew that proof of his sobriety was important to him; it should have been someplace he could see and remember it daily. The only thought I had was that in light of his recent failures, he had hidden it. I couldn't know for sure though.

Eventually I gave up. I no longer confined myself to my room though, instead deciding to commune with Mom.

I laid on the couch since it still felt good to put my leg up, and thought-told her about all the messes I'd gotten myself into. I thought about Ali and how she was cutting herself off from me and apparently the Swans too, and how it bothered me that she was hiding her eyes – like she was embarrassed of who we were, or something. Then I thought about Jasper, and how nothing was as it seemed. Now that the urgency to get out of his house was gone I just felt empty, and alone. I thought the worst part of leaving would be living back in my dad's house but, especially since he hadn't been around yet, the worst part was really not seeing Jasper.

I missed him. I missed how we'd fall asleep whispering across his dark room and how he'd laugh at my measly sprinting distances after he'd done some serious long distance training. I missed how he'd kick my foot under the kitchen table when he was already done eating, and how I could spot his strikingly blue eyes even in a crowded room.

Everything seemed easier when he was with me and, on the flip side, harder without him. Today was one of those harder times. My eyes felt dry and prickly, like I was about to cry, so I flipped on the TV to distract myself.

Around ten, thinking Dad must be getting home eventually, I slipped back into my room and forced myself through more deep breathing exercises until I could sleep.

When I picked up Ali and Bella the next morning, I tried a new approach.

"I really like your hair, Ali."

She paused, probably a little shocked, but muttered a thank you.

I continued on. "Bella told me she cut it herself. She did a really nice job."

That time Alice just nodded, so I changed the topic, asking her about doing tech crew.

That seemed to perk her up, and I was glad to see it.

"It's not really tech, even though we hang out with the guys on tech too. I'm doing set designs, mostly 'cause that's the only team that needed more people, but I have a bunch of really neat ideas for double sided backgrounds and things."

"That sounds really cool. I can't wait to see them. Are you going to have to do any heavy lifting?"

She shrugged. "I guess, but I'm sure if anything's really heavy we'll get the guys to help."

I nodded along thoughtfully, really working up to my next question. "And your shoulder isn't bothering you?"

Her back hunched and she stopped fidgeting. Apparently, Angry Alice was back.

"I told you I'm fine, Edward."

"I know," I said, still trying to pretend this was just another casual conversation. She seemed to be responding better when our words weren't weighted. "I'm just trying to look out for you. That's what big brothers are for."

Her eyes flashed with something sharp before she turned to glare out the window. "Yeah, well, apparently you can't protect me from everything."

My breath caught in my lungs. Her aim was true. That jab hurt, but she spoke the truth. I had failed her and that, as much as anything else, pressed heavily on my conscience.

"Ali," I pleaded, my voice softening. "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"I told you I don't care."

"Not caring isn't the same as being okay," I reminded her in a whisper.

She shifted abruptly to face me, and yelled like I wasn't two feet beside her. "I don't care! I don't want to talk about it, and I wish you'd just leave me alone!"

My chest tightened, and I took a moment to focus on the road in front of me. Bella, the amazing girl that she was, had pulled out her iPod and was staring fixedly out the back window.

"I'm sorry, Ali. Please… please don't be mad."

"Then just drop it already, okay?" Her voice was harsh, and laced with venom.

That was the last thing I wanted to do, really, until I believed she was actually alright, but obviously fighting with her would get me nowhere. I nodded.

Then she asked, "Where's Jasper, anyway?"

I swallowed thickly, and focused even harder on the road so I wouldn't break down right then and there.

When we got to school, Alice was still annoyed but managed not to yell. "I don't need a ride home again, but Bella still does."

First period was shit, because apparently there was homework assigned on Wednesday that I didn't know about. When the teacher asked everyone to pass their assignments up to the front, I swear I could feel Jasper's eyes on me. Instead of turning to check, I made a point of reading from my textbook. I approached Ms. Belfy after class to ask for an extension so it wouldn't affect my grade.

I saw Jasper linger by the door, and accidentally caught his eye. He looked distraught, like it was hard for him to just stand there. I could see my blank homework sheet in his hand, but I snapped my attention to Ms. Belfy and heard his shoes squeak out the door.

Ms. Belfy wasn't as tall as I was – almost no one was – but she still managed to look down her nose at me. "I gave your assignment to Jasper Cullen on Wednesday, who assured me he would get it to you. You have no excuses."

"But I—"

"No excuses, Edward. You can turn it in on Monday for half credit."

Well, la-di-fuckin-da.

During lunch I went in search of Coach Clapp, who told me to show back up to practice on Monday.

Again, wonderful.

When I got to my car after school, I breathed a sigh of relief for the upcoming weekend, and having avoided Jasper. Aside from protecting my own fragile composure, it was also important to me to build a semblance of independence. I had just done two whole days of school without Jasper. It was a meager start, but a start nonetheless.

Bella and I made small talk in the car, and she wished me a good weekend. I did my best to smile.

Dad still didn't come home Friday night, which I spent alternately staring at the TV and staring at my computer. My knee was feeling better, despite the driving and walking around school, and I looked forward to being able to take a nice refreshing run.

By Saturday, I wondered if I should be worried about Dad, and finally thought to check the garage. His car was gone, which I decided meant he was out somewhere on purpose, and that it was a good indication that he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. Knowing that our garage door would make a shit-ton of noise when he returned, I gave myself free reign of the house until he returned. It was raining outside and, besides, I didn't really have that much trouble to get up to, so I spent the weekend amusing myself with the internet, music and college apps.

I had decided that counting on a scholarship to a fancy east coast Ivy school was a long shot, too long, and that I should pick some more attainable schools. Besides, especially if Dad was drinking again, I didn't feel comfortable leaving Alice alone in Forks. I started looking up safety schools in Seattle and the Northwest that would almost certainly give me a scholarship, and printed out an application to UW.

I tried to keep myself busy, to distract myself, but it was a faulty system. I ended up spending even more time thinking to Mom, trying to figure out how to get through to Ali and how to manage the rest of the year. Giving in to Alice's charade that everything was fine and black really was her new favorite color didn't seem like the smart thing to do. I was pretty sure it was the only way she would talk to me without yelling, though.

_I wish you could talk to her, Mom. I don't think I'm enough anymore. _

By Sunday afternoon the loneliness had really set in. The only person I'd talked to since Friday afternoon was a dead woman. I didn't think I'd ever spent an entire weekend alone before. Not, well, ever. Not without seeing Jasper or Ali or at least my Dad. The thought was sobering, and miserable. Eventually I remembered that I was supposed to leave the house this weekend to get some money for Ali's lunches. I had completely forgotten, and all the banks were closed anyway. At this point I didn't know if that would upset her too, but someone had clearly paid for her new clothes and hair color, and she needed to have some pocket change of her own.

Eventually I decided to watch a movie, but all my favorites were ones I had enjoyed with Jas, and I quickly gave up on that idea.

My whole body froze when I heard a knock on the front door. I don't know why I hesitated, especially since I had just been lamenting my own isolation, but I couldn't think of who it would be. The idea that it could be a Cullen rooted me to the spot. I had expected Esme to make some sort of contact, but my phone had been eerily silent all weekend.

The thought that it could be Alice or one of the Swans, however, propelled me to answer the door.

I took my time crossing the small living room, nervous as I was, but quickly found out that all my worrying was for nothing. No one was visible out the peephole, so I didn't even bother opening the door. Clearly no one, Cullen, Masen or Swan, had bothered to look for me.

My own agitation was getting to me and I decided to get out of the house, for any reason at all. Maybe I'd just drive to the closest ATM and get Ali's money. I stomped back to my room to get my keys, but couldn't force myself into my room once I'd looked inside. My breath caught on a silent gasp, and I was transfixed.

Jasper.

He had yanked my flimsy window open and had one leg dangling in my room while still standing outside. He, too, froze when he spotted me. We looked at each other through the clear pane of glass in his hands like children watching the sky for rain.

He looked wild and his nose was red like it had been running. His hair was greasy and yanked into loose ringlets. What was he doing here? Was he looking for me? Or was he trying to sneak in when I wasn't around?

I shook my head and said softly, "Don't come in."

That spurred him into action but instead of retreating, he just pushed the window up higher. The damp wood creaked with reluctance, but he managed to pull his whole body into my room. When he stood to his full height he balanced himself like he was bracing for a fight.

Was that what he was here for? To fight? We were squared off, each on either side of my room, and I was reluctant to get any closer. I resented him for blocking me off from my own room. This was supposed to be my one safe place and now, with him here, I was on edge again.

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"I… I wanted to talk to you," he spluttered in a breathy voice.

"I don't want to talk. You made yourself perfectly clear already."

He reached forward, like he was going to approach me, but I backed up into the hallway. A weird sensation came over me and I felt like I had done this before. Why couldn't I just be free of this deceitful friendship already?

He pulled his hand up to run it through his hair, only serving to disturb the curls framing his face. "I know you're angry but I… I can't just let this go, Edward."

What the fuck did that even mean? Cryptic much?

His shoulders had hunched and he could barely make eye contact. He seemed so dejected, but that only made me angrier. Was I supposed to feel bad for him because he had lost his most devoted groupie?

"Don't you fucking act like I'm the one who kicked you to the curb." The venom coating my words was evident, but I was doing my best not to raise my voice. "You obviously never wanted me around that much before, so this puppy dog crap won't get you anywhere. That's supposed to be my schtick, remember?" I sneered.

"That's not true," he insisted patiently. "Please, Edward. I know you're angry." His voice was still low and calm, like he was sounding out the words for someone frightened and volatile, and it bugged the shit out of me. I wanted him to react, damnit! I felt like our friendship was a lie, and he couldn't even be bothered to get worked up about it.

"Damn straight, I'm mad!" My firsts were starting to clench at my sides, and I could no longer keep my voice down. "I've got enough shit to deal with, and now you show up wanting to talk? I can't even believe the shit you said to me!"

"Okay," he said, holding his hands up in mock-surrender and placating me with a soothing tone. "I know you have a lot on your plate, Edward, and I know you're upset. You just have to let me explain."

Oh, hell no. I would not be coddled. I charged across the room to loom over him. "Explain what?" My fists were so tight I could feel my own fingernails cutting crescents into my palms. "How you let Rosalie get away with all that crap? How I'm just some broken puppy you don't mind dragging around? How you like it that way?"

He couldn't look at me; his head was hung but I couldn't tell if he was looking at his feet or if his eyes were closed.

Finally, he answered in a wavering whisper. "Edward, please," he whispered. "Please don't yell."

I wouldn't let him guilt me into overlooking his falsehoods. I didn't even know why he was bothering to try, really.

"Why the fuck not? Because I'm just supposed to be thankful to hang out with the mighty Jasper Cullen? Because you'd rather just shrug this whole thing off? Is that what I'm supposed to do, Jasper? Fucking shrug!?"

If a shrug was what he was hoping for, he would be sorely disappointed. I wasn't even sure I was capable of calming down. Between his betrayal and the fury I felt toward my father's callous treatment of Alice, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to shrug it off.

When he didn't respond, I punctuated my question by snarling right in his face. "Is it!?"

When he answered it was in the smallest, most helpless voice I had ever heard from him. "Please, don't yell at me. I can't breathe when you yell at me."

That startled me into stillness. It was probably good for me to take a step back – I had known I wouldn't be able to stay composed while talking to him, but I hated letting him get me so riled up.

I backed away from him until I bumped into the wall by my door, and raised my hands in a gesture of acquiescence.

"Okay," I said through clenched teeth, as quietly as I could. "Jasper, what the fuck is there to talk about?"

He took several deep breaths before beginning. "Look. Rosalie hates you— I mean, not hate, but…" he corrected quickly.

I rolled my eyes. "I know she hates me. Move on."

"Fine. It's just, I know she's a bitch at dinner, but you don't know the shit she says when you're not around. She's been trying to convince me for years that you don't really give a crap about me. That you're just here because you want some of the Cullen money or popularity or, fuck, that you were trying to commandeer my mom for yourself."

I suddenly got very nervous about the hug Esme had given me, but then returned to being angry that he was making me feel guilty again. Besides, I had given up getting any more of her hugs anyway.

I shook my head sharply. "That's not true, you know that. You—"

He waved me off, taking a hesitant step in my direction. "I know. She's just blowing smoke. And my sister, I swear I love her, but she's kind of a conniving bitch. Just a few weeks ago she switched tactics, saying that you were creepily devoted to me."

I cringed, and tried to look away, but he saw my reaction and moved ever closer to me, planting each foot slowly.

"Rosalie was spouting half-truths, okay? She's not like us, she doesn't get us at all. Her friends," he mimed air-quotes, "are really just a posse of girls that are constantly looking over their shoulders so they don't get stabbed in the back. By each other. She doesn't know what it means to have a real best friend."

Best friends. That's what I thought we were. Why was Jasper's definition so different from mine? "She made it sound like I was your retarded cheerleader," I reminded him with a hard edge to my voice. "You said you _liked_ it that way."

"She tried to make it sound worse than is it," he answered softly, "but the truth is you are always there to cheer me on, for everything, and I do like it."

He was still approaching me, but I tasted bile. I couldn't believe that after all this mess and drama, he was still spouting the same shit. He pressed on, though.

"And I try to always be there to cheer you on. I know you're always there for me, and I'd like to think I'm always there for you. But she was turning it into something it's not. She was trying to say that it's unnatural."

Oh god. I squeezed my eyes shut. That was the big question, wasn't it? The big question before all the questions became moot anyway. Was it wrong to feel so close? The guilt and shame I'd felt before flooded through me, compounding all my anger and tension.

It didn't matter! I told myself. It didn't! Because that was over…

"Was."

He didn't respond, and I looked up to see him closer than I'd expected, but confused. "It _was _unnatural," I murmured quietly.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "You think it's unnatural?"

God, the pain in his face tore at me. Where did he get off being so broken up over this? So what if he had always been there to cheer me on? If it was out of some misguided sense of pity, then I didn't need his encouragement. I could do just fine on my own.

Words came rushing out of him before I could even answer. "It's not, Edward. At least, I don't think it is. I know she called you all sorts of awful things but please don't let it bother you, okay? It didn't bother me because I know I'm just the same. If you're my groupie then I'm, well, I'm definitely yours. It's totally mutual, Edward."

The idea of it made me pause. The thought that I wasn't some unequal partner in this… whatever it was. I had tried to forget, honestly I had, but I could still remember how he made me feel. How talented and special and supported I'd felt. Did he feel the same? Was it possible?

Well – I thought of my uncomfortable morning situations in his bed. It probably wasn't possible for him to feel everything I had, I decided, but if he just felt the kinship…

My thoughts stopped abruptly. Where was this explanation before?

"Why couldn't you just say that? Why did you let her walk all over me? And you. Us."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Edward. So sorry. But I thought if I just agreed, she'd drop it. And then you came out of the bathroom, and you were so mad, and you were starting to yell. I just can't think when you yell."

Had I been yelling? Looking back, I couldn't even remember. The whole night was just a swirl of let-downs and broken faiths.

I backed up a step further, and let myself slide down the wall my heels had backed up against. I pulled my good knee up to my chin, letting my right leg fall to the side. I sat there, quietly trying to get my thoughts in order.

I wanted to believe him, but something kept stomping down the peaceful thoughts that were trying to bloom. His words were pretty, and conciliatory, but they didn't solve everything. "Jasper, I can't. I just can't handle knowing that you all pity me."

"Oh, Edward," he sympathized. He crouched in front of me and leaned in, like he wanted to make sure he had my full attention.

My throat constricted and I glanced to the door, thinking that if he offered me more pity I might just have to bolt.

"Okay, look. I know what it seems like. Rose said a bunch of stuff at once, and I just wasn't answering the way I should have. I know that." He shook his head again, as if rattling the thoughts around in his brain would help. "Everything was getting so mixed up, and I was just trying to convince you that her accusations didn't matter."

"You could have maybe fucking clarified. I asked you, more than once. All you had to do was say no." My glare was thick with accusation.

"No!" he called out desperately. "I'm saying it now. No. I know I should have said it before, I know." His face was earnest and pleading. "I didn't get a chance to. I'm sorry, Edward. Really. It doesn't bother me that we're so… well, not codependent," he shook his shaggy hair out of his face with a deep breath, "but intertwined. I like that, but I just couldn't say everything I wanted to in front of Rose."

"Why not?"

He blinked rapidly, suddenly avoiding my gaze. "It, it doesn't matter now. Just please, believe me. I know it all came out wrong. All I wanted to do was remind you we had a good thing here. But between her goading you and your yelling I was so… I just, I never got a chance to say that I was talking about me."

He was still blinking excessively, and his breathing was clearly labored. It was obvious, now, how flustered the whole thing made him.

Inexplicably, I wanted to comfort him. I really did. I knew that with his calm surfer-dude demeanor, he wasn't especially adept at handling conflict. Other than trading quips with Rosalie, he'd probably never had the need. I truly believed that watching Rosalie and me get all worked up made it difficult for him to speak up.

There was one more thing I had to know, though. "What about before? When we were younger?"

"I felt bad for you," he admitted on a sigh, and I stiffened. "I mean, of course I did. Your mom had just died, and you were a wreck. But I didn't invite you over out of pity."

"You didn't?"

He smiled kindly and my vision was filled with nothing but his high, masculine cheek bones, the way his lashes framed his tender eyes, and the one tendril of dirty blond hair that had fallen between them. I was reminded once again how beautiful he could be, when he wasn't breaking my heart.

"Edward, I told you. The answer is no. Of course I didn't. That first night… I just didn't want you to go through something so horrible alone. I wanted to keep you safe, and I wanted to help because you were my best friend. Even then, you already were."

"Oh," I mumbled self-consciously, both mollified and touched by his explanation. I remembered that night, that first time I slept over at his house. I was so grateful, and happy to have found him. "You were mine, too," I whispered.

I pressed my head back against the wall and took a deep breath. It felt like, for the first time in days, I could actually breathe properly. Knowing that I wasn't mistaken in our friendship and that my affection, while not something he could reciprocate, was based on a real connection… I felt like the rubber band that was wound taught between my shoulder blades had been snapped, and I would finally be able to relax.

Except that it wasn't working.

"Are you still mad, Edward?"

It was hard to look at his distraught face and the way his shoulders folded in on themselves, even as he forced a tepid smile. I folded my arms across my knee and pressed my head into them.

"I'm not. Really, I'm not," I said into my long sleeves. I had just been so mad, for so many days.

"Do you think, maybe…" he hesitated.

I looked up to meet his eyes once again, waiting in silence.

"Well, I know your dad did something awful. Don't you think, maybe, that you want to take this out on him?"

I looked into his glacial-blue eyes, still feeling somewhat desolate. I nodded minutely, but quickly raised my head to look at the ceiling to stop any sprouting tears from falling.

Once I was sure they were gone, I looked at him. "I am mad, Jasper. He makes me so angry. He hates us, and I want to hate him back, because he deserves it." Some hidden part of me, the part that had catalogued all the injustices he'd inflicted on us since Mom's death, seethed.

"But are you still mad at me?" he prompted. His voice was gentle, and layered with emotion. He looked almost as bulldozed as I felt, with his greasy hair and prominent worry lines. When he moved a hand up to squeeze my knee, I felt the easy peacefulness he wanted for us rinse the anger from my veins.

Jesus, he was right. Leave it to Jasper to know what I was feeling all along. And here I was, taking it out on him instead.

Well, I'd been mad at him too. I'd felt justified in my anger, until it'd become clear what an ass I'd been for letting bad communication get the best of me, and of our friendship. I understood, too, that maybe he didn't feel like hashing out the finer points of our friendship in front of Rosalie. She obviously couldn't be rational, and I certainly couldn't fault him for protecting his thoughts, with as much as I'd been hiding my own reactions lately.

I shook my head, trying to quell my residual anger and the tears that were trying to accompany it. I pressed my face into the fabric covering my arms again.

Within seconds I felt his hand, that same gentle hand that had comforted me after my fall at La Push, slip across my left shoulder. It was so warm; I wanted to press myself into it. Then I felt his other hand sliding up my right arm and slipping behind that shoulder. He quickly pulled himself to me, burying his face in my neck the way mine was pressed up against his.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," he whispered. "For all of this, and all the stuff you're going through. Please let me help you."

I shook my head within the confines of his embrace. I didn't think I could feel like an equal with Jasper if I kept leaning on him with all my baggage.

"Why not, Edward?" He pulled back and rubbed the palm of his hand across my cheek to get the last straggling tear, while still keeping his other arm around me. "I know you think Alice is your responsibility, but you shouldn't have to bear the burden for both of you without sharing a little. It's okay if you want to talk about it with someone besides her. It really is."

My eyes were filling up again at the mention of Alice. I had let her down so badly. Everything with her and Dad was just so beyond my control, and it made me feel helpless.

"Ugh!" I swiped my hand under my eyes roughly, still trying to remove any tears as soon as they formed. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I'm crying over this."

Jasper's eyebrows were pinched up as he watched my pain, and I felt doubly bad for knowing I was inflicting my anguish on him.

"Edward, it's okay. It's just you and me, and you don't have to hold it in."

I still had my folded knee pressed up against my chest, but his arms encircled all of me. I felt so weak and ashamed for not being able to control myself, but being back in Jas's accepting presence made it hard to stop once I felt the emotions welling up.

"She won't talk to me," I lamented, raking my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands, and finally letting the tears stream freely down my face. "He hurt her, the fucking bastard, and she freaked out."

Jasper gasped softly and reached for one of my own hands that rested behind my neck. He threaded his fingers between mine, just like I'd wanted to do that last night in his room, before everything went to shit.

"I was worried when I didn't see her at school this week," he commented quietly.

I shook my head against him. "You wouldn't have recognized her. She's changed. She's not the same and she won't talk to anyone about it."

Jasper clucked and nodded along sympathetically, holding me all the while.

"I lost her," I whispered, choking on my own words.

"No," he promised. "No, you didn't."

He smelled like the Cullen's house and even as I cried, I felt so much better in his arms. If I could just stay right here, I thought, then maybe everything could be okay. I'd be okay and I could figure out how to fix my family and everything would go back to the way it was before. All I wanted was for it to be like it was two weeks ago, when I adored Jasper and didn't mind, and was able to keep Alice out of harm's way.

Jasper accepted my sobs gracefully and pressed his cheek against mine. "You didn't lose her, just like you didn't lose me. I'm right here, and I'm going to help you fix it, okay? You don't have to do this alone."

I nodded desperately against him, still clutching tightly, desperate for any relief from this feeling of defenseless uncertainty. I didn't want to cry — it seemed like a weak and selfish thing to do — but as I cried into Jasper's arms, I realized how amazingly cathartic it was to get it all out.

Hugs, I swear, they are the answer to the world's problems.

My tears eventually slowed and as I sniffled I became self-conscious, once again, of my uninhibited display. As I began to lean away, I felt Jasper turn his head to brush his lips against my cheek. Mine were all chapped and bitten, but his lips were amazingly smooth and warm as he kissed my face.

"You gonna be okay?" It was practically a statement whispered against my skin and I nodded, still in his embrace.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

I turned to look at him, to thank him, but his mouth dragged along my cheek without pulling back. Instead of face to face, I suddenly found myself lip to lip with Jasper. Shock raced through me and my whole body locked down, still poised against his.

This is new, I thought. This is not returning to two weeks ago, this is not just making amends. This is new. This is _amazing._

Neither of us moved and the only sensation I felt was our hot breaths mingling between our lips.

I was too close to make out his expression, so I let my eyes fall closed. Jesus, his lips were so plump. My heart thumped erratically against my chestbone and I remembered viscerally that this was what my body had been craving.

I sucked in a deep breath to prepare myself before pressing ever-so-slightly more forward, but was met with only air.

My eyes snapped open, taking in a stricken Jasper. He was sitting back on his heels, one hand clapped over his mouth and panic in his eyes.

"Oh my god, Edward," he breathed. "I'm so sorry." He was shaking his head frantically, and started pulling his fingers through his curls. Now I knew why his hair looked like it had seen better days.

"What?" I asked, startled and confused. It's not like I had pushed him away. I was right there, with him. Did I do something to turn him off? Had I taken too long to respond? If he'd wanted this, why had he stopped? The question immediately plagued me.

"I'm so sorry," he kept muttering. "I'm not, I mean I won't… I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

His rambling was making me tense and self-conscious and before I could even think about the consequences I blurted, "Why did you stop?"

Of course, I regretted it as soon as I said it. I wanted to turn away, to hide my face and pretend I hadn't really just said that. He didn't need to know I wanted it.

He was staring at me though, with his wide, ice-blue eyes. I was caught, pierced to the spot.

We eyed each other warily, each sizing up the other. I don't know what he saw in my face, because his expression never wavered. Finally, in a low but forcedly-neutral voice he asked, "Did you want me to keep going?"

I almost choked on my own spit. Did he actually expect me to answer that? Out loud? All I wanted was my best friend back. I wanted to know he didn't pity me – and I got that. I should be happy.

I _was_ happy. The rest was just icing on the cake. I didn't need icing.

I finally tore myself from his stare, and focused on the ratty carpet under my feet.

All I could think was that his eyes were a prettier blue.

I both saw and felt him lean in. "Edward," he said softly. Once again, he sounded like he was talking to a frightened child, trying not to be intimidating. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

There was no way I could answer, so I distracted myself by picking at a fraying thread with my thumb and forefinger.

He kept inching further towards me, but there was nowhere for me to go – I was already sitting back against the wall. He took advantage of that when he placed his palms on the wall on either side of my head and leaned in so his nose was pressed up against my ear.

"If you want this, you need to let me know," he whispered, his voice suddenly firm. "This miscommunication bullshit stops now."

There almost seemed to be a threat to his words, but the threat of what? Tongue?

Just then he breathed out in an impatient huff against my ear and I couldn't suppress a shiver.

He must have taken that for an answer, because once again he dragged his open lips across my cheek. He didn't bother with pretense though – he moved straight to my mouth.

I was statuesque in my stillness, squeezing my eyes closed and letting him choose his path. His lips stayed firmly against mine, mimicking them perfectly like a carbon copy transfer, before he tilted his head. He molded his lips around mine, breathing a ragged breath into my mouth for an eternal moment.

Holy shit. Jasper Cullen was going to kiss me.

All I had to do was kiss him back.

We moved at an achingly slow pace, gauging each other's reactions. I was hesitant to respond fully, not knowing exactly what had scared him off before. My body remained frozen but I slid my mouth against his, mapping the fullness and the curving swells of his lips as I increased the pressure slightly.

When I did, I heard him suck in a sharp breath through his nose, and he pressed his mouth urgently against mine.

For that brief moment our lips puckered, testing out the feel of this new intimacy.

The movement was minute but the action felt monumental.

Our first kiss.

* * *

**Kissing continues in the next chapter :P**

**Love it? Hate it? Wish they'd just get on with it already? I really want to know. Just go ahead and hit that review button  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.**

_

* * *

_

_For that brief moment our lips puckered, testing out the feel of this new intimacy._

_The movement was minute but the action felt monumental._

_Our first kiss._

* * *

He felt like satin and tasted like cherries.

I wanted to watch him, but the sensations tethered me to his lips so I opened my eyes. The feeling of nervous tension was only magnified when I met his watchful eyes, staring back at me.

It's an awkward feeling to kiss with your eyes open. Instead of just dropping the reigns of your self control, it feels very precise and deliberate, like every moment there's the conscious decision to keep kissing. With your eyes open, it's like letting the other person know you really want it.

And so I watched him watch me kiss him, and I knew this was mutual. This wasn't an accident or a slip of the tongue – so to speak. We had decided to kiss and kiss back. Reassured, I let my eyelids flutter shut.

Our second kiss was bolder, headier. He still smelled of spices and summer and his tongue was warm and soft against my own. I felt lightheaded, and gave up trying to focus on anything besides Jas.

It's like I was on drugs. I felt keyed up and super human, reveling in my sensory overload. Every part of my body, from the tips of my ears to the backs of my knees, was overly conscious of the sensations around me. I could feel the light breeze from the open window and hear it rustling through his hair. I could hear him swallow and feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his lips. I was completely high off Jas. I was jazzed.

His hands were still pressed into the wall beside my head as he kneeled in front of me. His insistent weight reminded me that I still had my knee up between us. When I let it fall to the side, he crawled even closer.

He surrounded me without touching, our lips the only connection we shared and the epicenter of the new feelings racing through me. My whole body was flushed, and my veins coursed with adrenaline and bliss. My brain was on stutter-mode, reiterating again and again that Jasper Cullen was kissing me. Kissing me, kissing me. Surrounding me, kissing me, over me, kissing me.

It was only then that I realized he was on his knees between my spread legs with nothing between us but air. I let out a deep, throaty moan, completely overwhelmed. My fingers dug at the carpet and I pulled back for a ragged breath.

Jasper was panting too. His mouth hung open and his pupils were dilated. He looked so exposed and vulnerable as he scanned my face for a reaction.

I gave another moist kiss, our third, before I let my advances subside to gentle caresses. With my mouth gently against his I moved a hand to his cheek, holding him to me until he was merely brushing his lips back and forth across mine. Eventually he shifted to sit beside me and his hands traveled to my cheeks, carefully wiping at the tears that had dried there.

I leaned back and let my head fall onto the wall beside us. His lips were pink and his hair was even more matted than before. I knew I probably looked the same.

"Hi," I breathed, breaking into a smile I just couldn't suppress.

"Hi," he said lazily, but content.

With a quiet chuckle he rested his head against the wall too, before his expression became serious.

"I'm still so sorry about what happened, Edward." Somehow his voice sounded muffled compared to the rushing of blood past my ears. "Everything Rose said just made me wonder if you could, you know, feel like I do. And then you were asking questions but it was really hard to concentrate, you know? All I could think about was how much I wanted this."

My chest swelled, but I was immediately reminded of every time my erection and I had walked away from Jasper so as not to do something stupid.

I nodded, looking away. "I'm glad you came over."

He slipped his free arm across my shirt and grasped the back of my neck comfortingly, his thumb working tiny circles against the tense muscles there. I laid my head on his shoulder.

"You sure do have a temper."

I rolled my head even farther into his shoulder so I couldn't see his face. "I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I already knew that, what with, you know."

My dad. I rolled my eyes.

"It's just, I guess I've never been on the receiving end before."

I giggled against him, despite myself. "Yeah, and we've never had to make up before either."

He giggled back once, then again, until my forehead was bouncing against his shoulder to the rhythm of his amusement.

"Wooo, boy. You're right, that was certainly a first."

It was the first of many, I hoped. Sure that I was blushing, I still pressed myself into his neck.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

I could feel his nose in my hair and his lips pressing against my scalp when he spoke softly. "Come home with me."

I didn't answer as I thought about that for a moment. I definitely wanted to get out of here. I wanted to follow Jasper home and curl up in his bed and not worry about anything.

But I worried about things for a reason. There were a lot of things I wanted which life had said _tough shit_ to, like having a dad that didn't drink or yell, and I couldn't avoid it all just because I wanted to.

Jasper caught on to my reluctance.

"Edward, please don't stay here. I don't think it's…" His lips twitched in my hair as he searched for the right word. Eventually he said, "necessary," but that's not what he was thinking. He wanted to say "safe."

"Jasper," I said determinedly. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

When he sighed, a lock of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back roughly. "But I will. I do worry, Edward. Just like you worry about Alice."

Lately, it felt like I wasn't worried about Alice enough. Or at least I hadn't been, before. I clenched my jaw as I steeled myself to stay in my dad's house.

"Hey," Jas said softly, but it didn't make me look at him. He said it again a little louder and his warm palm slipped across my cheek, gently turning me up to face him.

His voice was earnest, and the fingers of his other hand were gripping mine against the short pile carpet. He looked directly into my eyes and said, "Please don't make me worry about you."

Gah. It was hard to know what the right thing was, when there were more people to consider.

I swallowed thickly, but eventually nodded. "Okay."

"Okay." He leaned back against the wall and directed my head back to his shoulder, where it had been a moment before. His fingers wound through the hair at the nape of my neck and he mentioned, "Mom's making pot roast tonight."

"Oh," I said dumbly, staring at the darkening sky out my window. "I like your mom's pot roast."

"Mm hmm," he hummed. "She knows." Then he said, "Come on, let's get you packed."

We threw practically all my clothes into my duffel bag, and filled my backpack too, so I wouldn't have to come back. It was a little bit surreal, the way I was packing for Jasper's house like I always had before. This time it felt so final.

I wasn't just going to the Cullen's because Jasper was my best friend and it was fun. No, I was going home with Jasper to live. Permanently. And I didn't like acknowledging that I was going to the Cullen's because I couldn't stay home.

I pulled the zipper closed and looked up, startled to find Jasper with my backpack in hand and staring at me, grinning like a fool.

"What?"

He ducked his head and busied himself with my backpack but said, "Nothing. It's just… neat."

Neat? That was one wildly different interpretation of things, and I knew he couldn't mean that. "Neat?"

He rolled his eyes at himself, or me. "Not, you know, everything. But you're gonna live with me. That's kinda neat."

"I already did, practically."

He didn't stop grinning, but did that little shrug thing that always vexed me. What is a shrug supposed to mean, anyway? I kept my eyes trained on him, looking for any clue to decipher what the fuck made him all smiley and quiet when not twenty minutes ago he was monologue-ing like a pro.

Well, there was the kissing.

He finally looked up at me and for a moment he just looked so… tender. I couldn't even fathom what he was thinking.

Suddenly he launched himself at me, the backpack forgotten and his arms outstretched, and I reached out to receive him. He pushed the strap from my shoulder, letting my duffel fall to the floor. I puckered my lips for another one of those kisses that made me so warm and breathless, but instead he slid his arms past my shoulders and around my back. He gripped me with enthusiasm, practically giddy.

"It's gonna be awesome."

I was a little more wary, but still hugged back.

Within seconds he leaned back, hooked one finger under my chin and tilted my face up to meet his. His lips were open and soft as they met mine, and I couldn't help but respond immediately.

We had already done this three times, and even though I felt like a fool for counting I still shuddered under his touch. That only made him kiss me more, and his hand behind my neck held me steadily against him. It was as easy as breathing to reciprocate with my hands pressed up against his chest, more gripping than pushing.

I knew we should be approaching this more cautiously, taking our time to savor each other tenderly and reverentially, instead of kissing furiously like the teenage virgins we were. I wanted to talk this out, to be reassured that I wasn't taking too much or moving too quickly, but the way my lips and neck and fingertips tingled made it difficult to concentrate.

As he pressed up against me, I was reminded of one way, at least, that we were the same. Technically, I was six foot and he was six one, or something, but wrapped up against each other, we felt the same. I was aware of his belly moving directly against mine when he talked and the synced-up rise and fall of our hard chests that sandwiched my fingers between us when we each took a breath. With my hands tracing his collar bones and his hooked over my shoulders, our elbows lined up and even our knees knocked – awkward as we were.

But still, his lips slid over mine in a fluid rhythm that made it impossible to feel self-conscious. He splayed his hands across my back and easily slipped my arms between us to wrap them around his neck.

This kind of enthusiasm was easily contagious, and all consuming. I didn't want to move too quickly, afraid that one of us would spook the other with a sudden movement, but it was easy to ignore my insecurities when I realized he wanted me.

Jasper _wanted_ me.

The way his hands passed over my shoulder blades, skimming gently, then harder, constantly in search of someplace new to touch... He was having trouble containing his reaction and he soon traded his timid pecks for lush, wet kisses.

I escaped only briefly to take a choppy breath as I traced the side of his mouth with my tongue. He retaliated by grasping my lower lip between his teeth and giving a sharp tug, making me gasp.

He immediately let go and stared at my face, anxious and apologetic. He scanned my expression, obviously worried that he'd gone too far.

The idea that he wanted me in his mouth so bad he'd had to use his teeth was the sexiest thing ever. I pressed one hand around the nape of his neck, crushing him to me as I slipped my tongue in his mouth.

Everything else melted away – how I'd run from his house and my dad's awful temper and what a mess the rest of my life was. It all felt hazy and unimportant compared to the curly-cue patterns his finger tips were suddenly tracing on my back. The pressure was firm and even, but I wanted more than that. I slipped a hand just barely under the back of the collar of his thin white shirt for more skin-to-skin contact. I knew what the feeling of his skin against mine did to me but, in that moment, I didn't care. Compromising situations be damned!

I kissed him soundly – I wanted him too vividly not to. We continued like that for several minutes, only separating our lips to take ragged, gasping breaths.

Our noses bumped occasionally, and I could feel him rocking against me with the rhythm of our kisses. I was hesitant to pull him flush against me, but I reveled in the hard planes of his back as I swiped my free hand across his shoulder blades and down his side. Christ, he even felt beautiful, and I wanted to crush him to me and never let go.

His shoulders were a little broader than mine, and I let him encompass me with his muscular arms. I had always been astounded by his physique. At one time I maybe have been a little envious of the way each of his muscles was clearly enhanced, but now I was happy just to touch them. He had a runner's body with long legs and narrow hips, just like mine, but where I had always been a little scrawny, he had filled out beautifully. Each muscle of his legs was so defined, from the bulb of his calf to his round, tight butt.

I mean, I didn't know it was tight. I had never, well, obviously…

I pulled out of the kiss breathless, a little embarrassed, and wondered if he knew I was thinking about his butt.

I had never felt so scatter-brained and everpresent in the same moment. The feel of him still zinged through my veins as I tried to stay rooted to the spot.

Both of us were panting, open-mouthed, as I tried to think of something to say besides _I can't believe that just happened_.

Swiping my tongue over my own lips, I felt that they were no longer dry and chapped, but instead swollen and moist. They were better for having touched Jasper – he was like my own personal brand of chapstick.

I worked to control my breathing and my pulse, trying to get back to a place where I could think about all this logically. I had this odd feeling, like I knew I was getting what I wanted. I just didn't know what to do with it.

Jasper was immobile and wide-eyed but grinning that same mad grin. I opened my mouth to dispel the tension that was mounting between us but all that came out was, "Wow."

That was… fun. Fun and good and sexy and I wanted to do it again. But that led to thoughts of doing more which loomed in my mind like dangerous, uncharted waters. I shook the hormones from my brain and reminded myself that I'd only just gotten my best friend back, and I'd better not fuck it up.

Reluctantly, I picked up my bag and made for the hallway.

Stepping away from Jas was a shock to my system, and the fizz in my blood died down as I remembered where I was. Before we got to the front door, I said, "Wait."

Jasper just jammed his hands in his pockets as I walked over to the kitchen cabinets and flung one open.

I grabbed the two bottles of whiskey, one of scotch and one of vodka, and placed them next to the kitchen sink. One of the whiskeys was still sealed, but I opened them all and up-ended them one at a time over the drain. I watched the large bubbles breach the mouth of the bottles, making that irregular glugging noise.

Jasper watched impassively from the doorway, simply letting me do what I wanted.

Then I recapped all the bottles and placed them back in the cabinet. When I was done I stared at the amber stain slipping down the drain, and then flicked the tap on as an afterthought. I stared into the almost-reflective shine of the sink.

I knew it wouldn't stop him from drinking – having liquor in the house wasn't the problem. The real problem was that he wanted liquor here in the first place, and that he was a belligerent ass when he'd imbibed. This obviously wasn't a solution, but it was a statement.

I guess I was taking my time closing the cabinet because Jasper eventually sidled next to me at the counter. His hand fit into mine, and he squeezed a short pulse into me. For a moment it was the only thing I felt – his hand spreading warmth and peace into mine. I felt better – calmer – almost instantly, simply from his touch.

_His hands can do amazing things, _I thought. _His hands should touch me all over._

Startled and embarrassed, I stiffened all over – no joke. I fought again to retain control over my eager erection. I knew it had been twitching before, but I didn't have an excuse now that he wasn't kissing me.

Pulling my hand from his, I moved swiftly to the front door and raised my backpack to shield my inconvenient situation.

"Come on," I said brightly. "I'm ready to get out of here."

He raised one eyebrow questioningly, but he certainly wasn't going to argue.

Jasper climbed into his mom's BMW and, after I promised to follow him straight to his house, I slipped into the driver's seat of my good old rust bucket.

Jasper carried my things, for the second time in a week, through his front door. This time though, it occurred to me that they might never come back out.

Esme was in the kitchen, but came around to the foyer when she heard the door.

"Edward!" she exclaimed. "You're back! Excellent. I was just making pot roast."

She talked like I'd been on a business trip, or took a little too long running errands. I glanced at Jasper for a clue, and Esme must have noticed my uncertainty because her face softened.

"I was going to call you, dear," she said softly. "But Jas wanted to talk to you first."

_Of course,_ I thought. Esme and Carlisle were so attentive to their children's moods and needs, it was nearly impossible to keep a secret in this house. I wondered briefly if she'd figure out the new turn our friendship had taken. The thought was alarming in a whole new way.

I didn't have time to worry then, though. Esme smiled brightly and wiped her hands on the rose-print apron tied around her waist. "Why don't you get settled in? You might as well just take up the guest room now."

Jasper, who had moved subtly behind her, shook his head at me. I was slightly confused, so he shook it again, sharply to the right and then the left.

"Um, that's okay, Esme."

"Really, Edward. I think you'll be much more comfortable."

Jas shook his head again, and I was starting to catch on. "I've actually become pretty attached to that couch. And Jasper offered me a drawer."

I cringed internally, wondering if I was just adding to the trail of breadcrumbs that would lead Esme to the right conclusion. "As long as he doesn't mind…" I said hurriedly.

Jasper stepped back into his mother's line of sight and executed his trademark shrug. "Fine by me."

"Alright then, boys. Dinner in half an hour, so wash up."

Jasper did, indeed, have a drawer for me, and easily cleared out a second. I placed my folded shirts into one as he pulled his own clothes out and dropped them in another.

Once that was done, I made a beeline for the bathroom sink. I set up all my contact lens paraphernalia just where it had been before and washed my hands. Then I made to take out my contacts, since they'd gotten all dry from the crying and whatnot. Jasper moved in beside me to wash his hands too.

I had just screwed my contact case shut and was reaching for my glasses when a blurry but sudden movement caught my attention. Before I had a chance to react, a splatter of water caught my face. I startled, but I knew what Jasper was playing at.

This was his game. Before drying his hands, he sometimes flicked the excess water at me, catching me unaware. I should have learned to expect it by now, but somehow he still always got me.

I pulled back and tried to see Jasper by squinting. I could barely make out his curly mop of hair, but it was enough. I swiped a hand out, catching the still-flowing stream of water from the tap. I pushed as much water as I could in his direction, but his laugh didn't tell me if I'd gotten him or not.

My guess was not because within a few seconds, a whole handful of water was launched into my face. I spluttered and reached out for him, but my fingers only skimmed his shirt.

"Missed me." His smirk was even audible.

"Yeah, but not for long." I turned back to the sink, reaching out for my glasses. We couldn't all have perfect vision like Jasper Cullen, and I vowed he would feel the wrath of the nearsighted, as soon as I found my glasses.

My hand patted the wet counter but found nothing. I knew they were here – I always put them in the same spot.

Suddenly, from across the bathroom, I heard him taunting me. "Looking for these?"

"Jas, give me my glasses."

"Or what?"

I grinned, despite myself. "Or as soon as I can see again, I'll turn this faucet on you until you're drenched."

"You'll have to catch me then."

I could make out enough shapes to watch him leave the bathroom and I groaned. Stepping carefully, I maneuvered through the door frame and into his room. His white shirt stood out against the dark shades of his bedspread, and I moved quickly in his direction.

He laughed again, and latched onto my forearms. I gripped back at him tightly, and laughed too as my momentum carried me further and I almost lost my balance.

Jas slowly came into focus as he lifted my glasses to my face. The first thing I saw was his golden curls, drenched into little ringlets on the left side of his head. Small droplets fell, slowly, onto his cheek and down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

I felt immediately victorious. "Ha! I did get you!"

"Yeah." He was smiling in a lopsided way that was half bashful and half smirking. "You got me," he finished quietly.

It was only then that I finally realized how very close we were standing. In fact, my hands were still gripping his arms just as his were doing to mine. I zeroed in on his pink, curved lips, wondering if he would want to kiss me again.

He looked like he was going to, maybe, but we jerked apart at the sound of a sharp knock on the door.

"Dinner!" Carlisle called, so we grinned a little sheepishly at each other and moved toward the door.

Rosalie was having dinner at Emmett's, and I was secretly thankful to have just one night of peace to get comfortable at the Cullen's before I had to face her. I assumed there was a shit storm on the horizon, scheduled for the moment she found out I was back.

All in all, dinner was a nice slice of normal, easy life. The pot roast was delicious, of course. Carlisle welcomed me back and made friendly conversation. He and Esme asked us questions about school work and Carlisle even mentioned taking another look at my knee if I was going to be running again. They chatted about their upcoming work weeks and reminded each other about little around-the-house chores that needed doing.

I quickly forgot everything they said, though, because Jasper had let his legs fall to the side and his knee was gently resting against mine. Esme asked us how the pot roast compared to normal, saying that she'd tried some new spices, and all I could think was _Your son tastes better._

Not exactly conducive to polite dinner conversation.

I was grateful when we were excused and, after Carlisle declared my knee and calf in working order, we shut ourselves back in Jasper's room. I tried to lure him back into the bathroom so I could drench him like I'd promised, but to no avail.

It wasn't until the night started to wind down that I began to get anxious. I knew I still had a lot to figure out, like what to do with Alice and my dad, not to mention what this new thing between me and Jas was.

When I started getting fidgety, Jasper grabbed my hand and slowly led me to the edge of his bed.

"Okay, Edward. What exactly happened with Alice?"

I sighed and put one hand over my eyes, trying to figure out where to start, but it just all seemed too jumbled. I shook my head and let my hair cover my face.

"I don't know, Jas. I just don't know."

"Edward."

"Look," I said. "I'm not the one who needs to talk about it. It's Alice that's shutting everybody out."

He gripped my hand tighter and scooted closer on the bed. "I think you both need to," he said quietly. "Tell me about Alice."

And so I did. I told him about finding her crying, and all the things she'd said. I told him about her mood swings, the overnight transformation and her colored contacts.

Eventually we found ourselves laying face up on his bed, with me ranting to the ceiling. I guess it was like every other time he'd listened to my anxieties, where he was patient and sympathetic and reminded me to breathe at the appropriate times. The only difference this time was that we were laying so close our arms were pressed together, and he never let go of my hand.

"It's just that she won't tell me what happened. God, when I found her on the lawn she just looked so broken. It looked like he actually… hit her." My voice choked off and I turned to find Jasper.

He looked serious, and concerned.

"I mean he never really, you know, before…"

He nodded. Of course he knew – he remembered. He had dragged these stories out of me before; how Dad would yell, flinging hurtful accusations and books or, sometimes, glass figures at us. I shuddered to remember when Ali had accidentally broken Mom's favorite figurine. That had been the first time.

And the worst.

But he'd never actually… hit her. On purpose.

"I don't even know why the fuck he was drinking again in the first place," I growled. That seemed like one more injustice on top of it all. Somehow he had recultivated the one habit that made him an even worse father than usual.

Jasper threw in comments here and there, and swept his thumb across the back of my hand in a steady, soothing pattern. His questions pulled more thoughts from the festering bog of my mind, freeing them to be contemplated by the both of us.

I usually preferred to keep all this shit in my head without burdening him or the Cullens, but he'd always inevitably coax it out of me. And, like most things I did with Jasper, I found that I felt better when it was done. We hadn't come to any conclusions this time, but I did feel better knowing he was mulling over the problems too.

When I'd finally gotten it all out I maneuvered onto my side, pulling my knees up between us.

Lying still on his grey checkered comforter, I eyed him like he was eyeing me. When I saw his gaze flit to my lips I stilled.

Part of me wanted to be kissing him, but the other part was getting kind of nervous. I mean, kissing was fine. Kissing was _great_. I wanted to keep kissing him forever, but that always lead to something else, and it was everything else that scared me. This wasn't like before. This was nighttime, and we were on a bed. _His_ bed.

Things happened on beds, at night – unspoken, intimidating things – and I was suddenly reluctant to let anything besides our arms touch tonight.

I didn't make a move and neither did he so we eventually got ready for bed, him in his room and me in the bathroom. I decided to leave my shirt on over my boxers, as I sometimes did when it was cold, even though it wasn't hiding anything Jasper hadn't seen before.

He wore a shirt too.

He had already set my pillow on the left side of his bed, so I crawled under his covers awkwardly, resolutely staying on my own half. It was impossible to relax as I considered his proximity. I mean, he had basically told me to keep sleeping in his room. Did he think it'd be easier to keep kissing this way? Or did he have something else in mind, something more?

He flicked off the lights and I rolled to sleep on my stomach repeating to myself _this is okay. This is just like before. _

Barely a minute had gone by when I heard him shift, and felt his warm fingers on my side, over my shirt. I jumped as my muscles tightened involuntarily, and desperately squeezed my eyes shut. He stilled momentarily before sliding his hand across my back and gripping my other side.

My heart was already pounding and I gripped my pillow tightly in my hands. We were in unexplored territory now and I was silently coaching myself to tell him I wasn't ready for more, to try to explain it without hurting his feelings. I felt his body heat radiating against me, trapped under the covers, and I held my breath when he pulled me onto my side so that my back was facing him.

He didn't say a word, and neither did I. Even though I tensed, I felt his body slowly relax against mine as he let the full weight of his arm drape around my waist. I was wary but loosened up progressively the longer he stayed without moving. Eventually, I could feel his chest against my back when he took a breath, but that was it. I remembered my earlier thoughts about his hands on my body but instead of my usual embarrassing reaction I realized that this, just this, was actually kind of… nice.

His raspy whisper cut the silence. "Is this okay?"

My anxiety had subsided, slowly, and I reminded myself to breathe.

"Yeah."

In fact, now that we'd settled into it, having Jasper's arm around me was amazingly peaceful.

"Jasper?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad I'm here."

"Me too."

He lifted his head to place a soft kiss on the back of my shoulder, and a shiver ran down my spine. Even through my shirt I could feel the warmth he left there, and I thought to myself that it might actually be okay to wade further into this new territory, eventually. Just a little. Like if tomorrow he wanted to kiss me again, in bed, that might be okay too.

He settled his head on my pillow. "Goodnight, Edward."

"Night, Jas."

* * *

**Review if you want Jasper to spoon with you too. **

**Alright, so I've been told that last chapter wasn't a lemon or even a lime, it was merely a Snapple.  
**

**In other news, I've finally got a beta! The wonderful Elvelethril has promised to help me make this story typo-free. That means I probably won't be sticking to my same weekly posting schedule, but I still won't go too long between updates. Also, I can't even tell you how much all your reviews help me plan my ideas, and motivate me to write. Really, they're invaluable, so keep 'em coming.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

_Like if tomorrow he wanted to kiss me again, in bed, that might be okay too._

_He settled his head on my pillow. "Goodnight, Edward."_

_"Night, Jas."_

* * *

Jasper made this weird little noise while he slept, like a purring gurgle deep in his throat, and I was surprised that I'd never heard it before. Then again, it was so low that I could only make it out because his nose was buried in my hair and he was rumbling right against my ear. The way his fingers splayed directly over my thrumming heart, pressing my back intimately into his chest, meant there was no way I could escape the noise. Then again, I didn't necessarily want to.

It may have woken me up, but it was still really frickin' adorable.

I could feel the heat of him pressing into my spine but also into the undersides of my thighs, where his bent legs were curled up behind mine, and I was content not to move – only partially because I was excited, under the covers, yet again.

I mean, what's a morning at the Cullen's without a little wood?

I willed myself to ignore the strain in my boxers when Jasper's purr broke off because I knew he'd be awake soon. I didn't really know what to expect, so I just laid perfectly still, waiting for him to make the first move. His breath that had left a warm, moist spot on the back of my neck breezed across my ear when he whispered, "G'morning."

He used the arm encircling me to pull me onto my back, but I turned all the way to face him and kept my knees up between us to hide the fact that I was sporting a stiffy. He mimicked me until we were laying under his covers like a couple of uncertain but hopeful question marks, watching each other slowly adjust to the bright light of the new day.

While he blinked sleepily, I let myself get caught up in the rugged handsomeness of his features. He had a strong chin, with a sharp, angular jaw that I was suppressing the urge to nuzzle, and high cheekbones that just drew attention to his mesmerizing blue eyes. Even in his disheveled state, with his hair all puffed up in a tangle on top of his head, Jasper was beautiful. The almost-blond stubble he had grown overnight just made him look even more untamed. Only his broad shoulders were sticking out above the covers, and I could just make out the line of his collarbone through the thin white fabric of his shirt.

I reached up a hand to run my fingers through his loose curls and sweep his cheek-length dirty blond hair behind his ear. Reluctant to take my hand back, I let my fingertips trail across his scratchy cheek and down to the soft gully of his neck. Faster than I could really see, he snatched my hand and pressed it against his own chest. I was shocked to feel the rapid drumbeat of his heart – it nearly matched mine.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.

"Uh-huh." I wondered if his nervous heartbeat meant he was aroused too, but I wasn't quite ready to find out. "We should probably get up."

"Uh-huh." He made no move to rise, though, and it took me several seconds to actually tear my eyes from his and roll out of bed.

I avoided Jas in the bathroom, as much to keep from being sprayed with water again as anything else. As it got later I lingered in his room in the hopes of avoiding Rosalie, and was feeling rather triumphant when we stepped out the front door with Esme's neatly-packed sack lunches in our hands.

Of course, that feeling was lost to the wind the moment I saw the sleek Corvette in the driveway behind my own Volvo. Not only did she know I was back, but she had parked me in.

Bitch.

Luckily the Cullen's driveway was wide enough to fit all their cars side by side, and so with a little maneuvering and a seven-point turn, we were soon on the road. Really, I was surprised she hadn't let the air out of my tires.

Alice made no mention of Jas's presence in the front seat, but Bella offered him a cheery "welcome back." They both hopped out the minute I shifted into park, and were waved over by some tall, older-looking guy I had never seen before.

Well, he was definitely older than them. He still looked younger than I was, by at least a couple years, but was nearly as tall as me – which was saying something. His skin was so brown it might not have been a tan, and even from the car I could tell his eyes were uncommonly dark. It was only the fact that his spiky black hair was shorn so close to his head that kept him from looking like another Rez kid. I didn't know who he was, but I was suddenly wary of this stranger who was so casually bumping into Alice when they walked – almost like he was doing it on purpose. Ali responded by throwing her full weight against him which didn't do much in the way of setting him off balance, but did cause him to grab her arm and pull her off to her next class.

I glanced to Jasper to make sure he'd seen it too, and he gave me a quick nod before we headed off to History. We turned in our homework, mine for half-credit – thanks for nothing, Ms. Belfy.

At lunch, Jessica and Lauren found us with the rest of the track team and gabbed about how they'd heard my knee was better and how they'd be there to cheer us on the next time we faced the Wolves. I didn't really know what to say to them, and I definitely didn't care if they'd be there, so I shook my faintly-reddish hair into my eyes and let Jas tell them they were awfully sweet and we'd see them around.

Coach Clapp was just as excited as the girls to see me running again, but on Carlisle's recommendation I restrained my efforts to a lot of stretching and a few jogs around the track. I took it pretty easy, mostly zoning out.

Which is to say, I mostly just thought about Jasper.

He lapped me with ease again and again – a sight I certainly didn't mind. His backside flexed becomingly with each step and I let my gaze flicker between his ass and the taught musculature of his calves. I may have even intentionally slowed down just to ogle them more often.

My lack of effort was quickly evident, and Coach called me over to suggest I try the weight room instead. He gave me a supportive pat on the back but I knew his concern was just for the standing of the Forks High Track Team, and not me personally.

I didn't mind the weight room mostly because I had the time to shower before Jasper, which I figured was a good move. Jas wet after a shower was just as appealing as Jas sweaty from running, though, and so I was just as distracted walking to the car as I'd been running around the gym. If he noticed my supposedly-discrete glances, he didn't comment.

I thought now that I was staying late again Ali might catch a ride home with us, but only Bella was waiting by my car at five o'clock. Ali had sent her a text saying she was still working and would get a ride home before dinner. Apparently, set design took longer than after-school sports. Who knew?

I missed Ali's chatter, the way it used to be, but Bella did ask thoughtful questions about our day and how my knee was taking the exercise again. She wished me luck and good health and all those other polite mannerisms Charlie had taught her. She really was a very sweet girl.

It felt like a fairly typical day, overall, except that as soon a Bella disappeared out of sight Jasper slipped his fingers through mine. I drove the rest of the way home with my right hand curled around his left, on his knee. He had nice knees.

Our casual ease didn't last, though, and I pulled my hand from his as soon as I saw the gaudy red convertible adorning the Cullen's driveway. I parked on the street so as not to block Rosalie in – there was no need to fan the flames here – and we stepped quietly into the house.

It was immediately obvious we'd shown up in the middle of something. Esme and Rosalie were talking heatedly in the entrance to the kitchen but their heads snapped up at the sound of the front door closing.

Rosalie looked like hell, with puffy eyes and a red nose. She'd obviously been crying. Her chest shuddered as she took in a deep breath, and she made aggressive eye contact with me before the sobbing returned in full force. Planting her feet in an Amazonian stance, she stabbed a shaky finger towards the front door and commanded, "Get out."

I said nothing, but didn't move either, and she took a menacing step forward.

Esme tried to hold her back, but only half-heartedly. She had one hand held against her own chest like she was trying to restrain the feelings bursting forth from within.

"Get out!" Rosalie yelled again, and was further angered when I glanced at the front door but made no progress towards it.

I didn't want to get out. I hadn't meant to upset her, or make her cry, but I didn't want to leave either.

Rosalie pulled free of Esme, stalking right up to me. My feet moved backward involuntarily, but I was met with Jasper's hand against my lower back. He was just beside me, steadily holding me in place. The look Rosalie shot him started as a glare, but quickly faded to melancholy rejection.

Her voice was quiet and pained when she asked, "Jas, what are you doing? Why did you bring him back?"

Even though I couldn't see his face, I wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. His only response was to lightly increase the pressure of his fingertips on my spine.

Rosalie's tears continued and she sounded broken as she lamented, "We used to be a family. You used to—." Breaking off on another sob, she whirled around to implore Esme, who was still looking heartbroken in the kitchen. "Mom, please. He's not one of us. This isn't how it was supposed to be."

Esme reached for her, like a young mother reaches for a wet baby crying from its crib. Her face was stricken with the pain of her daughter's struggle. As she moved toward her, though, she said, "Rosie, sweetie. Edward's staying with us now."

Rosalie recoiled from her mother and let out a feminine wail. She made to dart for the protection of her own room but in a moment of hesitation, just before slipping around the corner and out of sight, she spun on the spot.

Her eyes found mine from across the open room. "You promised."

Jasper, finally speaking up, called "Rosie!" softly, but she turned her head away as if to shield herself from the endearment.

"I hate you guys," she whispered. "I hate you both."

Seconds later, her door slammed shut in a final statement of grief.

A quiet sniff pulled my attention to Esme, who was now holding the palm of her open hand against her mouth. Her wide eyes were shining.

"Esme," I started, but she held up her other hand to stop me.

"Please, Edward. Don't say anything." Then she, too, rushed to Rosalie's room, intent on whispering muffled pleas through her door.

I hated to see Esme so upset, especially since it was my presence that caused the family rift in the first place. Hell, I even hated seeing Rosalie so upset, since her angst cast a weighted net over the moods of everyone else in the house. It almost seemed insensitive for me to feel relieved, now, when half the house was in tears, but really… so Rosalie finally announced her hatred of me out loud. All things considered, I figured it could have been much worse.

That relief lasted all of five seconds, though, before I saw the look on Jas's face. The pressure on my back had slipped, and I'd turned to find him standing stock still, swaying slightly with his eyes closed. His eyebrows were pulled in tightly, practically touching, and his lips were pursed in distress.

"Jas?" I asked softly.

"She's never said that before."

"Jas, she doesn't—."

He opened his vast blue eyes to me, and they were stormy with emotion. "She's not supposed to say that. We're family. She's a bitch all the time, but I still _love_ her, because she's family. How can she hate me?"

My hand sought his and he squeezed back in desperation. I couldn't help but feel responsible for this source of familial angst, and I sought to reassure him.

"She loves you, of course she does. She's just angry."

His expression changed, then, into one of wary confusion. "I don't understand. I've kept all my promises to her. I love her."

"She was talking to me." I sighed, staring at him through the hair flopping in my face. "You didn't break a promise, I did. Jas, look, I'm really s—"

"What did you promise her?"

He searched my face like my expression would tell him the answer faster than I would, but I doubted it gave anything away besides my apprehension. I felt edgy, like I didn't know how he would react. I thought that if I didn't move, not even a muscle to blink or take a breath, at least I wouldn't exacerbate the situation.

I had to tell him, though, and I looked him right in the eye when I fessed up. "I was leaving and I promised her that I wouldn't, you know, come back."

His shoulders slumped and when he blinked his eyes were unfocused. I thought his eyelids looked like shutters, moving to shut out the harsh brightness of reality. "I really wish you hadn't done that."

"Jas, I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd ever be back. I needed a ride home and—"

"She's right," he interrupted me, and the way his blank eyes stared past me made it seem like it was an accident he was even voicing these thoughts out loud. "It's not supposed to be like this. She used to be my sweet little kid sister, and now she just gets mad at me all the time. And she makes Mom cry." He shook his head sadly. "I hate seeing Mom cry."

The hunch of his back and twisted scowl on his face made it clear how much Rosalie's and Esme's pain affected him.

I whispered, "I'm really sorry," through tight lips, and was surprised when his attention snapped back to me.

His eyed raked over me, as if observing me from a distance, and I did my best to stay perfectly still. I was beyond mystified when, a few moments later, one corner of his mouth slowly began to turn up into miniature and sad smile.

"Edward," he said softly, while his smile grew. It looked defeated, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Edward," he said again, sounding almost wistful. "You always get the strangest look on your face."

He slid the hand I wasn't holding to rest over my heart with an open palm, splaying his fingers much like he had when we were sleeping. My chest felt tight under the warm pressure of his fingertips.

"I'll never understand how you forget to breathe."

At the reminder, I sucked in a mouthful of air and felt the relief as it rushed to my lungs.

"Sorry," I mumbled, a little embarrassed.

Jas tugged on my hand. "Stop apologizing. Come on." Instead of heading to his room, and thus closer to the ongoing sounds of Rosalie's tirade, he pulled me into the backyard. "I gotta get away from this."

It was crisp and chilly outside, and Jasper's mood seemed to improve exponentially the farther we got away from the house and the crying women. The Cullens had a large expanse of land, to go with their expansive mansion, but Jas and I followed our familiar route around the swimming pool and through the first couple rows of trees to the Sycamore we had dubbed ours back in eighth grade. Our old tree house was practically in shambles by now – more of a flat surface wedged amongst the skewed branches – but we had added new wood periodically to keep it sturdy. Some of the planks were still a bit damp from the recent rains, but when he made to climb up I followed him without question. When he reached the horizontal slats of wood with solid footing he turned around to offer me a hand, and once I took hold of it I didn't let go for the rest of our time in the woods.

I knew Rosalie's declaration was bothering Jas but he seemed to want to forget about it, so I distracted him with jabber about colleges and track and other meaningless things. He just listened and shrugged and flashed his dimples at me, seemingly content.

Our new closeness – intimacy, maybe? – crackled between us but went unmentioned. Despite the hand-holding and cuddling and the unexpectedly sensual kiss he'd left on my shoulder, we had yet to verbally acknowledge any of it. I got the feeling that he liked me – _like-_liked me – almost the way I like-liked him. But Jas, who was usually so open about what he was thinking or feeling, hadn't said a word. I wished I could just curl up in his ear and listen to his thoughts but that was, obviously, a futile thought.

For the time being, I was content to just enjoy the time and solitude our makeshift hideaway afforded us. The surrounding trees were as tall as our Sycamore, which made it nearly impossible to see up into the tree house from anywhere except directly below us.

Eventually, I decided it would be remiss of me not to take this opportunity to kiss him. We hadn't actually kissed since we'd left my house, but the way he had been sweeping his thumb across the back of my hand made me think the gesture wasn't unwelcome. I decided to chance it, without warning, and he responded with a fervor that was every bit as tingle-inducing as I remembered it. I shivered when our lips made first contact, and he chuckled but didn't pull back, so I moved my left hand to stroke his cheek. He sighed into my touch without unlocking our lips.

He was sitting in the center of the platform, reclining back against the large trunk that cut its way through the planks of wood. I didn't hesitate to twist over him, trapping him between the tree and my searching lips. After a few warm kisses, I let my mouth fall to the underside of his jaw to place feather-light kisses on the smooth expanse of his neck. He groaned softly at the feeling, and I began leaving firmer, wetter kisses along the curve of his shoulder.

He responded by reaching for my waist. Twisted around him as I was, my shirt had ridden up in the back and the caress of his fingertips on my vaguely ticklish skin made me jolt. He ran his palms under my shirt and along my back, at which point I practically melted against him. I had all but stretched out the collar of his shirt to pepper what I could reach of his chest with kisses, when he slipped a hand under my chin and pulled me up to kiss his lips. When his breath and, finally, his lips worked their way to the soft spot behind my right ear, I moaned and actually wondered if there was any better sensation in the world.

My face and chest felt hot and flushed, and my pants felt unbearably tight. Any movement I made rubbed my overly-sensitive erection against the starched fabric of my boxers, so I clutched Jas's shoulders tightly to keep myself still. I was comforted by the thought that, with the attention he was showing my heated skin, he wouldn't have the opportunity to notice the part of my anatomy that was saluting him from my pants. Our breathing grew heavy as our hands wandered farther over each other's arms and torsos, sometimes running through the other's hair or tilting our chins up to resume our energetic kissing.

Soon enough, though, the pinpoints of light reaching through the trees started to fade, and we were forced to think about returning to the house. I had no idea how much time passed because, really, how could something as trivial as the turning of the earth matter when I was kissing Jasper Cullen? I lingered briefly, though, to take in a sight of him smiling lazily as gentle shadows flitted over his face.

Jas was stunning to behold, especially now that I didn't have to hide my glances or pretend I didn't notice his masculine appeal. He was studying me the way I was studying him – probably taking in my wind-ruffled auburn hair and the pink tinge my nose always took on when it was this chilly. I felt bashful under such scrutiny and looked away, but not before I thought that Jas looked most beautiful when he'd just been thoroughly kissed. It thrilled me to think that I was the only one who knew that.

He half climbed, half jumped down from the tree, but I took it slowly to safeguard my knee. Soon we were trudging back through the crowded growth of the woods, hand in hand.

Stepping through the door on the back porch was like stepping back into a dull pantomime of the Cullen's house as it usually was. Jas was stiff behind me and Esme beckoned us to the kitchen without a word. Dinner was a somber reminder that our trip to the tree house hadn't been long enough for the troubled air in the house to clear out.

Rosalie was notably absent – awkwardly so – and although Carlisle tried to make casual conversation, it was strained and unconvincing. Esme didn't bother to say much at all, which was a first for her.

I was relieved to finally be excused, but before we were even out of earshot Jasper's parents began to bicker in hushed, bitter tones. Carlisle was making some point about how "she has to learn to accept…" but Esme just kept reiterating something about _her_ daughter and _her_ family. I was glad when we shut Jasper's door against the harsh half-whispers coming from the kitchen.

That night, Jasper crawled into bed behind me much like he had before. It was ridiculous the way my chest swelled with the feelings of affection and intimacy, especially since neither of us had had the balls to talk about anything yet. I whispered a soft "Goodnight," which he returned.

I had felt like maybe I should be the big spoon, but his breathing quickly evened out and I was content to just tuck my arm over his and clutch his hand through the night.

The rest of the week was surprisingly routine. Every morning the bedfellow in my boxers would wake me up before after he woke I'd keep a knee between us to hide my embarrassment until I could slip off to the bathroom to wrestle with my stiffness. It was like an Army Cadet – standing proudly at attention at every opportunity. It was too proud for its own good, really, and I had to bring it down by hand in the shower.

Every night we'd curl up like puzzle pieces – unmoving but perfectly aligned – while I reveled in the warmth Jas leant me through the paltry buffer of our shirts. It became less awkward, with each successive night, and we were soon chatting softly as we slipped toward sleep like we used to do when I was sleeping on the couch.

Even school was, oddly, like it'd always been. Part of me was surprised the track team hadn't taken one look at me and Jas and said, You! You're kissing now! Last week we hadn't even been talking and now we were… something. Our stolen kisses, quiet laughter and nightly cuddling were at the forefront of my mind almost all the time, and it seemed absurd that our newly-developed tendencies weren't stamped all over my face. On the other hand, I was extremely relieved to know that we still had our privacy.

The Mr. Tall and Flirty that waited for the girls in the mornings had started putting his arm over Alice's shoulders, while Bella just trotted alongside them. I burned with curiosity, which was achingly evident to Jas each time he dragged me off to History. I longed to know who this boy was and what he wanted with my little baby sister, but Jas's grip on my bicep kept me in check. In an effort to respect her privacy I didn't pry when we rode to school, and didn't even ask Bella – once she told me with clear conviction that she was under strict orders not to talk about it. I wanted to drop hints that Ali could tell me whatever she wanted but, of course, that would probably sound exactly like the conversations we'd had the week before about Dad. And everyone knew how well those turned out.

The Cullen's house seemed to have lost some of its luster. The extremity, or at least the longevity, of the response to Rosalie's latest tantrum caught me by surprise. I thought it would blow over, but I guessed her continued disdain took a toll on Esme's maternal instincts. Rosalie's teenage angst had apparently reached its breaking point, and she was lashing out at everybody.

She was often temperamental through dinners, making a racket with her silverware while refusing to explain her foul mood. It was obvious Carlisle had told her she couldn't avoid us by going to Emmett's for meals, so he joined us almost every night. However, even his generally boisterous contribution to dinnertime conversation was thwarted by Rosalie's oppressive anger.

Of course, I believed Rosalie was just acting out because she could. I thought it was odd to see this kind of discord in such a happy, stable family. Sure, they bickered, and Rosalie had thrown tantrums as long as I'd known her, but this time she'd taken it too far. I mean, okay – she hated me, obviously, but this was her family. They were her own flesh and blood who loved her, no matter what. How could she treat them so poorly?

I asked Jas, about halfway through the week, if there was something I was missing. Had something else happened between her and Esme?

He cleared his throat noisily before explaining. "She's really upset that you're here."

He looked apologetic, but I just motioned for him to continue.

"She blames Mom, or at least she's been taking it all out on her. Rose says Mom is choosing you over her, and that she's a terrible mother. Dad says it's just a phase, because being a teenage girl can make you say all kinds of stuff you don't mean, but I think she told Mom she hates her too."

I swallowed as I let that sink in. Shit. If I'd told my mother I hated her – well, I never would have. By the time I'd been hit with the mental growing pains of puberty, Mom was already sick and there was no way I'd ever hurt her like that. Plus, I loved her more than any woman on the planet. But still, if I'd said what Rosalie had, I knew my mom would have cried for days. Esme's anguish was simply proof of her love for her daughter.

At first she tried to talk to Rosalie, bringing her peace offerings of afternoon snacks or clean laundry, but that usually just ended in Rosalie screeching some more.

After those failed attempts Esme tended to say very little when Rosalie was around, but she always had a smile for me and Jas. She was often in the kitchen when he and I were grabbing breakfast, and she always ushered us off to school with warm wishes. We, in turn, did our best to stay out of trouble and not give her anything else to worry about.

Both Jas and Carlisle put considerable effort into reminding her that Rosalie tended to get worked up over things and would calm down soon enough, but it didn't seem to help much. I, too, wanted to console her, but was afraid of looking like I was trying to complete the foursome that Rosalie had left with a vacancy. I even told Esme that we didn't have to do anything for my birthday, but that just earned me a tilted, motherly smile when she told me not to be silly.

Jas and I quickly became accustomed to ducking out of a room before Rosalie walked in – even more than we had before.

Unfortunately, it also became routine for Jasper and I to avoid any and all conversation relating to the new developments between us. I wanted to ask him about it – I really did – but every time the opportunity arose we found ourselves kissing instead of talking about kissing. As each day passed with no verbal acknowledgement, I found myself feeling more anxious and uncertain of what exactly he expected from me. For that matter, I wasn't even sure what I expected from myself, let alone him.

I didn't push the matter, though, and instead just took it on shaky faith that we'd figure it all out someday.

Even with the awkwardness of not knowing Jas's intentions, or of crossing paths with Rosalie, living with the Cullens was still infinitely better than staying at my dad's house and waiting on egg shells for him to step through the front door. Jas and I talked it over, and decided it would be best if I gathered up Alice's stuff so she had no need to make a return trip either.

We drove by my house after school on Thursday, when I figured that Dad's poker night would double my chances of him not being home. After passing by once and confirming that no lights were on, Jasper and I quietly let ourselves in. As I reached for the light, we were immediately accosted by the sickly-sweet smell of spoiled fruit.

An apple and two bananas sat in the fruit bowl in the kitchen, already brown and slowly shriveling. Opening the fridge revealed a carton of rancid milk and some moldy sandwich meat which I gathered up, threw into a plastic bag with the fruit, and tied off. Jas plucked it up, holding it as far away from himself as his arm would allow, and carried it to the outdoor trash bins.

In the meantime, I scanned the house for signs of my dad. The coffee table was arranged in exactly the way I'd left it, with the two remotes sitting along the edge, and the glass I'd forgotten there hadn't been moved. A quick sweep of the bathroom and Dad's bedroom showed the same thing.

A survey of the answering machine yielded three messages, each from one of Dad's work buddies about their poker night. The first one asked him to bring chips and dip, the second one asked him to call him back, and the third one was an aggravated, "Ed! Where are you? I've been calling your cell all day. Are you coming to poker or not?"

That, if nothing else, confirmed it: Dad hadn't been home.

When I told Jasper, he nodded solemnly and we traipsed down the hallway. I swung the hallway closet open and saw that our biggest suitcase was missing.

I felt mildly, if unexpectedly, relieved, knowing that at least Dad had planned for his absence.

I grabbed the next largest suitcase and dragged it to Ali's room, where I was immediately overcome with a weird sense of déjà vu.

Of course, her bag had been smaller, then.

I pulled out the contents of her drawers including, I'm sure, some of her more delicate things but I wasn't paying attention. The memories that bombarded me were the last thing I wanted to think about, ever, but it was impossible not to.

I was fourteen then, so Alice must have been ten years old. She would always be undersized no matter what, but this was before puberty had even begun for her and she was dwarfed by both me and my father.

I was startled in my room by the sound of yelling. I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like Dad was angry about something. It was sort of a surprise at that point – Dad hadn't said much in the month and a half since we'd lost Mom, preferring more often than not to just crawl inside a bottle and marinate.

Angry tones raced down the hallway and I quickly followed them back towards the living room. I was afraid that maybe he'd hurt himself, and was calling for help, but as his words distinguished themselves in my mind I sped up my footsteps.

"… so careless! Touching them with your grimy hands. Look what you've done!"

Dad was towering over Alice, who had her head down with her hands curled into tight balls at her sides. She was already in her pajamas – a long pink night-gown – and bare feet.

"Dad," I called out hesitantly from the entryway. "Is everything alright?"

He whirled around to face me, and it was immediately obvious that he was drunk. He swayed, holding his arms out for balance, and looked around lazily before his eyes finally focused on me. "Edward." He jabbed a finger back towards where Ali was standing. "Your sister smashed your Mother's pegasus."

I couldn't help it, I gasped. Mom had loved that figurine – it was only three inches high, but it was cut from the clearest glass with a subtle, rainbow tint and had large, majestic wings that curved above it. We had a whole case of glass figures that Mom had collected since she was in college, but this was one of her first, and her favorite. Her name was Jasmine, and sometimes when we couldn't sleep Mom would make up stories about the adventures Jasmine and her winged friends would have in the clouds. It was important to Mom, always, and therefore important to us. Now, it was in several pieces on the coffee table behind Alice.

In retrospect, it wasn't the loss of Jasmine that upset us, but the feeling that we were slowly losing pieces of Mom that we couldn't get back. And, of course, it was living through Dad's reaction – that, as much as anything else, made it clear that nothing would ever be the same.

From the bob of Ali's head I could tell she was definitely crying, but trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Standing in the middle of our living room, doing her best to be silent and invisible, she looked so small.

Without warning, Dad lounged for the cabinet of figurines and pulled out a larger one – an angel with petite, outstretched hands and tall, angular wings. He tossed it up and down in his hand a few times, seeming to take note of the weight of it.

"I guess we don't need them anymore, do we? You two have enough of your mother in you that you don't need these."

Suddenly wheeling back around to face Alice, he raised the figure above his head. He whipped his hand down, flinging the glass in her direction. She flinched but with her knees already backed up to the coffee table in the center of the room, Alice couldn't get farther away. His aim was rotten, luckily, and it missed her by inches. It did, however, strike the edge of the wood table and shatter into hundreds of sinister glass shards. They fell to the ground, littering the space around Ali's feet. At seeing the carnage, she looked up at me, petrified.

I saw red.

She was just a child, my baby sister. I didn't know what Dad would try next, but I refused to leave Ali standing in a land mine of glass.

In an instant I was between them, my shoes crunching over the treacherous shards. Dad looked surprised, as if he hadn't even seen me move. I spread my arms behind me to cover Ali and whispered, "Don't."

I didn't mean to sound angry, or aggressive. The last thing I wanted to do was provoke my dad, but I couldn't stomach the thought that she had been hurt by our own father while I was just biding my time in another room.

He reached for her, or me, and I growled. "Don't you touch her."

Pulling back, he looked disoriented, and I no longer cared about dealing with him. My only thought was to get Ali out of this living room and this situation as fast as possible.

I didn't know what was happening, but I knew this man was not our father – not the man that had raised and loved us. Maybe he died with Mom, I didn't know. But I didn't have time to figure it out then. I turned to Alice and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her straight out of the glass. Her arms slipped tightly around my neck, and I felt her kick her feet a little to shake them of any shards before she wrapped her legs around my waist.

Small as she was, it was a hardly an effort to carry her. I went straight to her room, making sure to close and lock the door behind me. The first thing I did when I set her on her bed was pick up her feet, one by one, to make sure there was no glass left. In huddling behind me she had obviously tried to shuffle backward, and had picked up a few superficial cuts along the way. I dabbed at them with a tissue, confirming that none of them looked very serious.

I tried to ask her questions – What had happened? Was she okay? – but she just cried into her hands and my neck, so I held her against me and softly patted her back. Her sobs were muffled and nonsensical and stuck in her throat as she took shallow, shuttering breaths.

Reliving the memory now, the similarities between that night and the night on our front lawn less than a week and a half ago were appallingly obvious. I should have known what was going on immediately.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts, and moved to Alice's closet. I pulled out a lot of her shirts but left the bright colors behind in an attempt to be supportive of her new look. I pulled some money out of my wallet that I had picked up from the ATM earlier, and tucked it into the pocket of a pair of jeans before I went to zip the suitcase.

When I glanced up, I was startled to see Jasper leaning against the doorway. For a moment he just looked so… tender, and I couldn't even fathom what he was thinking. I wanted to ask him to say something, to tell me what was passing through that beautiful head of his so that at least one part of my life was complication-free, but I didn't get the chance.

He launched himself at me with outstretched arms, and I reached out to receive him. I puckered my lips for another one of those kisses that made me so warm and breathless, thinking that even without words they were still phenomenal, but instead he slid his arms past my shoulders and around my back into a tight embrace.

He didn't say anything, but pressed a wet kiss to my cheek.

"Let's get out of here," I suggested.

He nodded against me before letting go.

On the way out, I contemplated taking the picture of Mom from the mantle. I hated the thought of not coming back to it – to her. It was ironic, twisted even, that I felt closest to her here, in the room where she'd said her last words and finally died. I usually tried not to think of the temporary bed we'd set up, with its stiff sheets and hospital-style guard rails, or the IV stand that had reigned over her frail form. I just thought of her; this was the last place I'd seen my mom. And now that I wouldn't be escorting Alice back to pick up her belongings, I didn't know when I'd be here again.

Unfortunately, the thought of my father returning to find Mom's photo gone, and his inevitable rage, was enough to push me out the door and lock it firmly behind me.

It was only a couple blocks to Bella's, but the whole time I was very aware of the fact that I'd done this before. From my house, to packing Alice a bag, to the awkward conversation I knew I'd have with Charlie. The only difference was that last time, I hadn't had Jasper to help me through it.

I'd thrown everything I could think of into Alice's Disney Princess backpack and a small duffel from her closet. After making sure she had shoes and a jacket, I crawled through her window and lifted her behind me.

With her bags in one hand and her tiny fist in the other, we plodded down to the Swan's. Her sniffles eventually subsided, and I knelt on Charlie's front landing to talk to her.

"Ali, sweety. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I- I dropped it. I'm sorry."

"Oh I know, Teeny, and it's okay. You're not in any trouble."

She nodded, but didn't seem to take any comfort in my words.

"What did Dad do?"

"He got… angry."

I nodded sympathetically, and pulled her jacket tighter around her neck when she shivered.

"Ali, I have to ask you a question. But I want you to know that no matter what you say, you're not in trouble, okay?"

She whispered a tiny "uh-huh."

"Did you get hurt? Because Dad was angry?" My stomach clenched even as I said the words, but I decided I'd rather say them and regret them than let them go unasked.

"Just my feet."

God – she was so young and tiny. Even though I was kneeling she still had to look up to see me when her eyes filled with tears.

That was enough for me. Those eyes, Mom's eyes, should never have to cry. She nodded pitifully and I hugged her tightly, making endless promises about how I would be there for her and she would always be safe.

"Okay, Teeny? This is never going to happen again. I'm here, and I love you. Okay?"

She held on tightly and told me she loved me too. When we righted ourselves, I knocked on the door and stoically asked Charlie if Alice could spend the night.

I couldn't believe I was retracing those same steps, even though I no longer had Alice in tow. That night I had filled Charlie in, as diplomatically as I could, on what had happened so that he would understand if Alice was upset. I wasn't thinking about the fact that he would want to go to the authorities – that he was the authorities. He'd wanted to 'make a phone call', as he put it, so that Dad wouldn't come near us again.

Fear gripped me so tightly as I babbled out all my pleas and excuses. I was instantly horrified of what would happen to us without Dad. He may have gotten angry, but he was the only family we had left. I was nearly sick when I realized we would be put in the foster system.

It had taken only moments for me to become panicked and incoherent. Not only would we be taken but we could be separated, and most likely would be.

I might – might – have thrown up in Charlie's bushes then.

He had taken pity on me, I guess, and gruffly promised that he wouldn't make a phone call yet, but if our dad laid a hand on either of us…

I had thanked him profusely, for everything, and headed back home.

This time, when I knocked on the Swan's door, Charlie looked more weary but less surprised than he had that night when Ali was ten.

Charlie was still in his uniform, and hadn't even had the chance to take his gun off yet.

"Edward," he said, wiping a hand across his mustache. "I've been wanting to talk to you." He motioned for me to follow him inside, and we sat awkwardly around the half-set dinner table.

I gulped. "I, uh, brought some more stuff for Alice," I said, lifting up the suitcase.

He nodded, looking stern and watchful like he was wondering how much I knew.

I was wondering the same about him. "She shouldn't need to go home for a while."

Again, he nodded, but it was clear he was angry with the situation and how I was handling it. "I don't plan on letting her go back there," he said with conviction.

Once again, I knew the words 'phone call' were looming over us, and they still terrified me. Given the fact that it was three and a half years later and we were having the same conversation, it occurred to me that maybe I should have just let him call Child Protective Services in the first place.

Then again, we had no family to go to, and the more I thought about it the less I understood how he could want to fling Alice into the foster system. He loved her like a daughter, I was sure. Plus, I had a feeling some of those foster parents were no better than what we wanted her away from.

I didn't know what to do – I didn't know what the right answer was – because if he made the phone call this time, they'd only be taking Ali away. We'd be separated for sure, unless I could be her guardian. I'd have to be proven fit, though, but I was intent on doing whatever I needed to do to keep Ali out of the system.

"I'd like to have a word with your father."

"He hasn't been home," I admitted.

"At all?"

I shook my head.

"Has he made any contact, since…"

"Not since before I picked Alice up."

He nodded thoughtfully and scratched his mustache again.

"You know that's no good either, Edward."

I sighed. He was right, and I knew the word bouncing around in his head, unsaid: neglect.

But it wasn't as if that was anything new. "What if," I said, trying to veer away from the eventual threat of a phone call. "What if he'd asked you… if Ali could stay over while he was out of town? Then wouldn't it be okay?"

"Edward," he said gruffly. "Are you asking the Chief of Police to lie?"

I muttered, "No," with downcast eyes, while silently cursing because that was exactly what I was asking him to do.

I had been foolish to think that a life full of sleep-overs at Bella's was as good as an actual home, but I had spent a bit of time recently looking up Washington's State laws. Since no harm was coming to Alice as a result of Dad's absence, I wasn't convinced we needed to take action right away. I just didn't want Charlie to go making anything official yet.

"Do you know what happened to your sister last week?"

"Not entirely. She won't really talk about it," I answered warily and added as an afterthought, "to me. Has she said anything to you?"

"No. She just insisted on getting those contacts." He leaned across the table and confided, "They look a little weird."

I agreed. "I know. Thank you, though, for getting her all those clothes. I brought some money—"

I shifted to reach for the wallet in my back pocket, but Charlie waved me away. "No. It was my treat. Really, Edward, don't."

Once I met his gaze it was obvious that he meant it, so I let it go. "Well, thanks Charlie. She certainly seems a lot happier with the new wardrobe."

"Sure does. And that Clearwater boy seems to be a fan as well. They've practically got the same hair."

Clearwater? Like Leah? "What?"

"Seth Clearwater. He sure does seem fond of her. Been holding her hand when Sue drops her off."

"Sue Clearwater, the nurse at La Push?"

"Yep. She drops her off before taking her kids home. Long commute, poor Sue. Sure nice of her to take the time."

I nodded sincerely, thinking this Seth Clearwater must be the boy who put his arm around Alice. Same hair, indeed.

Before I could respond, my attention was pulled to the stairway where Alice and Bella had suddenly appeared.

"Hi, Edward!" Bella called. "We didn't know you were coming by."

"Hey, Bella. Ali, I brought you some more stuff from home."

"Oh," she said casually. "Thanks. Did you get my dark jeans?"

I tried to think over what I'd grabbed, but couldn't remember much specifically. "Um, maybe?"

She rolled her eyes, but it seemed more playful than anything else. She glanced over her shoulder at Bella, who was stalling on the stairs and said, "Boys."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," I joked along, "we have no taste in clothes." That actually got a hint of a smile, and I was beyond thrilled to see it, so I grinned back.

Ali came over to haul her suitcase upstairs. I offered to help but she said she had it under control. Before she could step away I leaned down and told her, "I put some cash in one of your jean pockets. Just for… whatever."

"Okay," she said, cheerily enough. "Thanks, Edward."

Her good mood was certainly unexpected, and I wondered if it had to do with a certain boy who liked to hold her hand.

I watched her and Bella work their way back up the stairs, and headed for the door. Charlie caught me there, where he was hanging up his gun.

"You doing okay at the Cullen's? Esme says you'll be staying there for good now."

"Yeah, the Cullens are…" The Cullens are letting me sleep curled up against their son who kisses me in tree houses. ".. great," I finished lamely.

"They're good people."

I nodded. "Absolutely."

With that, I slipped out his front door and back into my car where Jas was waiting for me, which was a bit of a relief. After my heart-to-heart with Charlie three and a half years ago, I'd had to go back home to deal with the glass and the rest of my dad's temper. I shook that thought from my head, though, and decided to let Jas's warm smile distract me from reliving any more memories of that night.

I filled Jasper in briefly on what Charlie'd said and, after I'd shifted into drive, I put my hand on Jas's knee where it liked to rest. His hand was resting on his leg beside mine, his fingers tapping feather-light, uneven rhythms against my skin.

Once we were out of sight of the Swan's, his fingers curled and, in a movement so tentative I wondered if he really meant to do it, he slowly raised my arm and twisted it so he could press my palm to his lips. Gently, he kissed the scar on my palm that was my sole souvenir of Dad's anger.

A shiver immediately sparked up to my elbow and radiated across my chest like the slow warmth of the rising sun. Though he was slightly bent to reach my hand, his devastatingly-blue eyes were aimed up through his dark lashes, directly at me.

I couldn't help it, my breath caught in my throat at the intimacy of his gesture. All I could do was watch as his wet, plump lips swept across my skin. It was one of the most alluring things I'd ever seen. Thoughts echoed through my mind of that exact gesture except… everywhere.

He quickly replaced my hand on his leg, though, and I reminded myself that I was driving a car and needed to focus on the road.

Once we got back to the Cullen's, we settled ourselves on the floor of his room with our laptops to chip away at the homework and college essays that were always inevitably waiting for us. We tried to concentrate, but still voiced idle thoughts and complaints about various teachers. Jas would occasionally reach over to press random keys in the middle of my typing, just because he could, so I would attempt to close the lid of my computer on his hands when he did.

Oddly enough, it was life as usual. In fact, when Jas got up to get some water but decided to launch a pillow at me on his way out, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

We had been playing through our homework and whispering goodnight to each other for years. This new thing we had wasn't, in reality, all that new. Our playfulness, and the ease with which we spent time together – it was actually just like before.

It was startling to think that we were still the same people we were two weeks ago. So what if we shared a bed? So what if, now, I found myself kissing another boy – and enjoying it. We knew who we were; I was Edward and he was Jasper. I was anxious and prone to episodes of massive logic-fail. He was calm, and self-assured. Jasper was my guide – my beacon.

Sure, this new territory was shaky and uncertain, especially since it was hard to talk about. Hell, he was probably as unbalanced as I was, but somehow I was okay with that. This was just me and Jasper, same as it always was, and that made it okay.

Of course, I had to amend my realization when Jas came back in, stretched out on the floor beside me, and snaked one arm around my waist to pull me in for a deep and lingering kiss.

So, this was just like before, except with kissing.

And I'd found I was really fucking fond of the kissing parts.

* * *

**Reviews convince Edward to finally sleep without a shirt. **

**Also, I have to give a major thank you to my new and wondrously awesome beta, Elvelethril, who managed to read and reread this in record time.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

**

* * *

**

_So, this was just like before, except with kissing._

_And I'd found I was really fucking fond of the kissing parts._

* * *

Eighteen. It's an important age, apparently. It signified manhood and maturity. It meant that I was an adult, capable of making important decisions and taking care of myself.

Except that when I woke up on Saturday, when I was supposedly this older and wiser man, I felt exactly like I had the day before. There were a lot of changes that were supposed to come along with turning eighteen. I could buy cigarettes (not that I ever would) and porn (not that I had anywhere to hide it) and I could vote (not that it was an election year).

Eighteen also meant I was free of my father. I never had to go home again, if I didn't want to. And I was old enough to legally get custody of Alice, if it came to that. I would, if I had to, but I was really hoping things wouldn't get that bad. I felt no more equipped to raise a teenage girl than I did to drop out of school and start earning a living.

I mean, hell, I was still letting the Cullen's feed and coddle me. I was the exact opposite of self-sufficient.

All these thoughts streaked through my mind in an incessant loop as I lay in bed the morning of my birthday. The anxiety of it all made my pulse quicken uncomfortably. I was so immersed in the thoughts of what I should do for Alice, versus what I could do for her, that I completely missed Jasper's awakening until the hand he had wrapped across my chest began to slide down to my stomach.

My body responded immediately, in several ways.

In an instant I had jerked my knees up into the position I usually employed to hide my daily erection from Jasper. With his hand already on my chest, however, it was a useless gesture; my morning wood was already reaching up towards his touch. I could feel his breath on my neck and the pressure of his fingers drifting across my ribs as his hand began to rub light circles against my shirt.

As much as I tried to remain rational, any other thoughts I had were ultimately forgotten under his touch. My whole body went _Yes,_ and my thrumming pulse shot even higher. It wasn't until his hand began to drift lower that I began to regain my senses. I was very blatantly and undeniably hard; the army of one in my boxers stood sharply at attention like the inexperienced cadet he was.

If I didn't stop Jasper he would stumble upon it, and I had no idea how he would react. For all the nights sleeping in Jasper's arms, and all the mornings spooning, I had never once felt or seen Jas's hard-on. Would he be startled to find mine so actively participating in this cuddle session?

He placed a soft kiss on the side of my neck and whispered, thick with sleep, "Happy birthday, Edward." I could feel his even, steady breath against my skin and the wetness of his lips made me shiver. My dick strained even harder against the thin cotton concealing it.

We had barely woken up and I was already panting and horny for him. Every sensory cell in my body was aching for him to touch me, but I was afraid of the consequences. I didn't know how to explain my situation when he was so sleepy and calm, completely unaware of my struggle to appear unaffected. I knew he wasn't trying to initiate anything like _that_ – anything sexual – because instead of sliding his hand further down my stomach, he pulled it back to rest on my hip.

As he did, though, he found the sliver of skin exposed between my shirt and my boxers. By the time his warm hand slid across my bare hip I had gotten myself so thoroughly worked up that I jerked sharply under his touch. His grip tightened around me just as my dick bobbed along with my sudden movement, tugging at my boxers. I didn't know if he had felt it, or even understood what he felt, but I knew I was cutting it too close.

Without a word I was out of bed and heading for the bathroom, my body twisted away from his view. I hunched over the sink, trying to calm my dumbass boner.

I wanted to lay in bed with Jas, I really did. I wanted to be sleepy and cuddly and talk about what we'd do with the day and watch the way his captivating blue eyes would shimmer when he blinked away the sleep. I didn't want to spring something so clearly out of his comfort zone, like an erection, on him.

I mean, we hadn't even been doing this – whatever it was we were doing – for a week. I didn't know much about dating, but I was pretty sure you didn't go waving your dick around in front of people after only a week.

I hadn't had much time to get my thoughts or my problem under control when there was a light knock, followed by Jasper's face peering around the bathroom door. I grabbed a wash cloth from beside the sink and let my hand fall, hoping the cloth would hide his view of my lower half.

"Edward?"

His eyes were still heavy-lidded with sleep, and his lengthy wavy locks were twisted up into a mess of bed hair that made it clear he would rather not be out of bed yet. I tried to get him out of the bathroom by saying, "I have to pee."

"But," he pointed out, looking mildly bewildered, "you're not. Peeing, I mean."

I pushed myself away from the sink as he swung the door fully open.

"Edward, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "No, seriously. You've been doing this random escape-the-room thing for a while." He waved his hands in the air as if to punctuate how random it really was. "What's the deal?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "I just had to take care of something."

I was trying to deflect his curiosity and concern, but I knew I'd missed the mark when his eyebrows suddenly furrowed and his lips pursed into an angry twist.

His words, though, were still quiet. "Last time you said that you bolted out the front door and didn't talk to me all week."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

"And now you're running into the bathroom every morning like clockwork. You used to lie around until the last possible moment when you were sleeping on the couch, but now you jump up like you can't stay in bed with me one second longer. So I'm sorry, Edward, but I have to ask. What's going on?"

I had no idea he'd been so attentive, or so bothered by my self-conscious morning routine. Christ, even when I'd avoided him in the previous week – with the notable exception of when I'd left the house altogether – it had been for the exact same reason. I was surprised he could put the two together, even if he didn't know what was going on. It was clear this had been bothering him all along, and I quickly felt guilty for putting him on edge.

"Jas," I said soothingly, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to get away from you." Even though I was. "It's just something… personal that keeps coming up."

Har har, no pun intended.

The annoyed expression dropped from his face as he surveyed the bathroom behind me, before gazing at me once again. "Edward," he asked, with a twinge of worry in his voice, "are you okay? I mean, if there's something wrong, you can tell me. Plus, you can ask Dad anything, honest. Patient confidentiality, and all that."

I groaned and took a moment to clap my hands over my eyes, shutting out the conversation while I tried to group my thoughts. The only thing more embarrassing than hiding a boner from my oblivious bed partner was hiding it from my endearingly and overly-concerned bed partner.

"Jas, it's nothing. Really. This whole thing has just gotten out of hand. Can we just forget it?"

He stepped fully into the bathroom then, letting the door click shut behind him as he stepped directly up to me. I awkwardly kept the washcloth between us, but he took no notice of it. Instead, he laid his hands lightly on my chest, his face a snapshot of concern, as he said, "If it's gonna keep happening, I'm gonna keep worrying. Can you at least tell me if you're okay?"

Mortification doesn't even begin to cover how I was feeling. I could feel the embarrassment flushing up my neck to my cheeks, my whole body prickling with awkward self-awareness. Here Jas was, my best friend in the whole world, getting all worked up over whether I was sick or hurting or whatever, and I was just trying to hide my perfectly normal teenage urges from him.

If I had known things were going to get so unbelievably awkward, I would have just poked him with the damn thing in bed in the first place.

Okay, maybe not. But I would have at least hid it better.

Now, though. Now I had to tell him, because I couldn't stand for him to look so upset over something that wasn't even a problem to begin with.

I couldn't look him in the eye, so I turned my head into my shoulder and mumbled an answer.

"What?" he asked gently, sliding a hand up to my cheek and turned me to face him. "I didn't hear you."

I still couldn't look at him, though, so I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a slow and stilted whisper. "When I wake up. With you. I'm…. hard."

He didn't say anything, or move his hands even the slightest bit, and the silence was pounding in my ears like my humiliation had a voice and was screaming.

Finally, I couldn't stand not knowing and peeked one eye open to look at him. His eyebrows had shot up practically into his hairline, but he looked like he was… laughing? Or, actually, trying not to laugh.

"Jas?"

"Are you serious?" he asked.

Well, I sure as hell wasn't the one laughing.

He let out a bark of laughter and let his forehead fall onto my shoulder, where he proceeded to shake his head side to side.

Well, he wasn't running, or pissed, which I counted as a good sign.

"Oh my god, Edward," he finally said, exasperated. "I thought you were offended. Or sick, or—" He pulled his head up to see me. "I thought so many things. But it turns out that you've just got some wood! Was that the problem last week too?"

I nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he just shook his head with more laughter. I failed to see his amusement.

"I thought that might be it," he admitted." At first. But then, it just happened all the time."

"Yes," I confirmed, completely deadpan. This wasn't fucking funny to me. "It happened all. the. time."

I was still overwhelmed by self-consciousness and bitter embarrassment, which made it impossible for me to find my humiliating erections funny. And I certainly didn't appreciate being laughed at.

That's probably why, despite his broad grin and gentle touch, I was immediately defensive when he asked, "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Me? I wasn't the one who pulled us into the same bed without a single fucking word. And I had tried to convince myself I was okay with that, but not if he was going to act like all the silence was my fault when I had been waiting for him to say something, anything, all week.

"How was I supposed to say something, when you can't talk and touch me at the same time?"

Just like that, all the levity in Jas's demeanor was gone. His eyes narrowed and he stepped completely away from me, practically backing himself up against the bathroom door. "What was I supposed to say, Edward? You jumped out of bed every morning like I was fucking burning you. I had no idea what would set you off. I was waiting for some kind of sign that you weren't freaked out by all of this." He gestured sharply to the space between us.

"Of course I was freaked out," I answered, my rebuttal getting a little heated. "I had no idea what I was doing, and I was hoping you at least clue me in a little. I mean, you started this."

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. It sounded far more like an accusation than I'd meant it to.

I heard the sharp inhale he took through his nose and saw the way his shoulders tensed. His messy bed hair and squinted eyes just added to his ragged appearance. In an instant his hand was on the knob behind him, and he backed out of the bathroom with a quiet but very firm command. "Don't yell."

I sighed heavily, dragging a hand across my face. I didn't want to yell, I only wanted to talk. I hadn't even realized I was raising my voice. For all the times I'd wished Jas would just open up about all this, I never thought it'd dissolve into an argument.

I followed him back into his bedroom, finding him as far away from me as possible, in the corner by the window. He had his back to me, like he was directing his attention to something through the window, except that the blinds were drawn. He had opted to stare at nothing rather than look at me.

The hunch of his shoulders and the way his arms were crossed tightly across his chest made it clear – even from the back – how shitty and dejected he felt.

"Jas," I said from across the room, keeping my voice low, but he didn't respond. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? This is all really new so, yeah, I was freaking out, okay? But only because I had no idea what I was doing or what you were thinking."

Still, he made no move or sound, so I pressed on.

"I mean, two weeks ago I thought I was into girls."

That certainly got his attention, but when he twisted his head to look at me he seemed even more pained than he had before.

His voice was soft but strained. "Two weeks?"

I didn't even need to recount the time, since I'd measured it in my head so many times already. I nodded my head encouragingly, hoping he would just understand my insecurities like he usually could. "Just two weeks. It takes some figuring out, you know?"

I mean, he had to know. He had to understand. This was new and intimidating and confusing for both of us. He had to understand that I wasn't mad, that I didn't mean to fight. I just had a hard time talking because I didn't know what to say yet.

When he turned to face me completely, though, he didn't look understanding. He looked cold, and rigid. The piercing blue of his eyes that usually drew me in were suddenly guarded, keeping me out. "So this is like… what?" he asked in a bitter whisper. "A trial run? Some kind of experiment?"

What? "No. Jas, of course not." I reached out for him, even though he was still the length of the room away, but he continued to stare at me unflinchingly.

His lips were pulled into a taught line and his hands gripped his own biceps, as if for support. "Do you regret this?"

How could he even think that?

"No," I insisted, finally crossing the empty space between us. I made to grab his hands, to hold them and insist that he calm down and warm up and stop giving me that icy stare, but he refused to uncurl his fingers from around his arms. Even standing right in front of him, it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between us, and I finally began to realize what he was saying. I didn't regret it but … "Do you regret it?" I asked timidly.

Without missing a beat, he nodded stiffly. "I do if you do. If you're gonna run and hide and do this thing half-assed while you figure out if you even want to do it at all, then yeah. I sure as hell do."

His words were like ice down my back, and I felt uncomfortably chilled beside his sun-warmed window.

Jasper was clearly angry. Even though he wasn't yelling or anything, his posture and his expression carried so much pain and defensiveness, and I knew it was my fault. I had done this to him, with my insecurities and my Masen temper and my complete inability to ever say the right thing.

Maybe we were better off not talking. Maybe I should have enjoyed the peace and pleasure while I had it.

But now, with him all pissed and closed off and talking about trial runs and regret, the damage was already done. I wasn't sure how I'd managed it, but the boy that had been stroking my hip and whispering happy birthday in my ear now looked like he refused to ever touch me again.

I wasn't sure I could handle that. Everything he and I had shared over the past week was nerve-wracking and puzzling, but good. So, so good. And I didn't want to let that go.

I had learned to live without a lot of things in my life. I had given up all my friends when we moved from Phoenix, before I'd had to let go of my parents too. And now, somehow, I'd lost Ali's trust on top of all that. But if Jasper wanted to take himself away too…

His strained voice interrupted my thoughts, but it was the imploring edge to it that caught my attention. The slant of his eyebrows had softened some, but he still held himself carefully away from me. "Edward? Please say something."

I stared back at him mutely.

"You're doing that thing, Edward, where I know you have eight million thoughts in your head but you're not saying anything. I need to know what you're thinking."

I wasn't even sure how to put it into words, so I reached up to wrap my arms around his shoulders, wishing for all the world that if I could just press him close enough we'd fit together again. He didn't return the embrace, not even bothering to drop his arms, but I didn't let go anyway.

Finally, I said into his ear, "I've lost a lot of things, Jas. But I can't lose you."

I felt his arms slide down to his sides passively, and I took the opportunity to hold him closer.

"If you're not sure about this," he started, "I can't do it. This isn't just some adolescent experiment for me."

The hesitance and pain in his voice cut me deeply, because I knew I had put it there. In the course of a morning – or maybe throughout my whole process of self-discovery, I didn't really know – I'd somehow managed to make him doubt my intentions despite all the amazingly tender kissing and cuddling we'd shared.

"Jas," I said as I tucked my head into his neck, still willing us to be closer. "I don't know what I'm doing, but this," this what? relationship? "_this_, with you, feels like the best thing I've ever done." It wasn't eloquent, but it was true. "Does that make sense?"

Finally, Jasper let out a deep breath and moved his limp arms up to my waist, wrapping them around me and squeezing lightly. I still held on tightly, ashamed of my insecurities and the drama I'd caused, but so glad to feel him touch me once again.

He pulled back slightly to place his lips on mine in what I realized was our first kiss of the day. I kissed him back eagerly, clutching tightly, until we were gently swaying like we were slow-dancing to the rhythm of our own affection. We kissed for a while, all relief and intimacy, until he pressed his forehead against mine, letting our noses bump between us.

"I really like you," he professed quietly, letting his thumb sweep miniature circles against my lower back in an affectionate gesture.

While my mind went _duh_, I still couldn't stop my heart from beating with extra exuberance, like it was casting a vote in favor of his declaration.

"What exactly are we doing?"

He was asking me? Hadn't I already proved that I was completely inept at this talking-about-relationships thing?

Of course, even as I thought that, I realized I might already know the answer to his question. Was this a relationship?

I blinked a bit, buying time with my arms still cradling him, before I finally said, "Dating? Are we dating?"

He took a deep breath and asked, "Like… boyfriends?"

Oh my god. Boyfriends. I was somebody's boyfriend.

I mean, it's not like it was that odd of a thing. It was the natural course of life to like someone enough to want to take them out on dates and make them laugh and run your fingertips over their skin. Of course, I never thought that someone would be a guy, or my best friend, but those were merely technicalities from where I was standing.

His eyes were searching mine, even as he pressed on. "I want to go out on dates and hold hands and buy each other dinner and do all the normal stuff, like a normal couple." His expression became more and more vulnerable until I realized I hadn't actually said anything yet, at which point I nodded wildly.

"Yes. Absolutely, yes. Boyfriends. Only… can we not tell anyone yet?"

I wanted to get comfortable with just us, before we opened up our new relationship – relationship! – to the whole world.

"Um," he hedged, before nodding along. "Of course."

I grinned stupidly, repeating one word over and over in my head. Boyfriends. Boyfriends boyfriends boyfriends.

He grinned back, wide enough to show his shallow dimples, and I gave up any semblance of self control.

I stepped forward, pushing him against the wall beside the window, and kissed him heartily. I had trouble containing my excitement, and when our teeth clacked from our smiling kisses I slid my lips down to his neck.

He turned his head, giving me full access to the soft expanse of skin that led from his ear to his shoulder, and fisted my shirt at my sides.

I kissed the lobe of his ear before again whispering, "Boyfriends."

Apparently happiness reduces me to a bumbling idiot, or a really smart parrot, but I didn't care either way.

In response, Jas slid his grip down to my hips, saying, "Edward? Next time you wake up with a happy under the covers?"

"Mm-hmm?" I refused to unlatch myself from his neck, or dwell on the burning embarrassment I'd felt earlier in the morning.

He brought his lips to my ear, murmuring, "I just want you to remember one thing."

With that, he shifted his weight so that his legs were staggered with mine, and pulled my hips flush against him.

I felt it, nestled into the joint of my hip and against my thigh, all firm and thick and hard. I felt it. _It._

Oh my god. Jasper's hard for me. Hard for me, just like I was for him. It's so long and it's touching me and I could touch it back.

I wanted to, but I was rendered completely immobile from the shock. I gasped into his neck, feeling my fingers curl into claws that sunk themselves into his skin as I held on tightly.

I finally pulled my head up, which only pressed our lower halves more firmly together and I reveled in the feel of his stiffness between us. He watched me as I stared wondrously at him, both of us thinking about his dick pressed up against my thigh. Which, of course, led me to think about my own dick, which was absolutely saluting Jasper where he stood.

"I didn't know, I mean, I never felt, or saw or, you know," I sputtered through my amazement.

"Well," he smirked. "I've had several more months to practice hiding it." He looked a little sheepish, but also really excited about the idea of not hiding it anymore.

I wanted to ask about it, like how many months and how I had never noticed, but he attacked my lips greedily. He let his hands fall down to the line of my boxers and eventually to my butt. His hands rested there with light pressure as we ground our hips against each other's. I decided it felt so nice that I moved a hand down to rest along the curve of his ass too.

I knew he had a nice ass, but damn.

It felt completely wanton of me to grope and grind against him without restraint, but our newly declared status made me bold.

Of course, it couldn't last. As it grew later – practically noon, I was soon told – a knock from Esme on the door called us out for a birthday breakfast of blueberry pancakes. We jumped apart before Jasper croaked for her to come in, and we both attentively hid behind chairs while she chattered brightly about flavors of syrup.

After a breakfast which had quickly become brunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon basically making it the best birthday I'd ever had.

We made out in his room, and the tree house, and even in the living room and kitchen when no one was watching.

Instead of feeling isolated and uncertain, like I had all week, it felt like the time we spent kissing just reaffirmed our affections. And Jasper was, surprisingly, anything but quiet now that we'd confronted the silence.

He'd murmur against my skin as he kissed and caressed me, whispering his fondness for my collarbones, my fingers, and the curve of my neck. It was overwhelming, in the most delicious way.

Our kisses were deep and our hands were steady, adventurous even, as the roamed over each other. That is, until they dipped below the belt. I enjoyed the feel of his palm against my butt, or my knee, and we were both painfully aware of our twin erections. But, even as we pressed our pelvises together, our hands still avoided that important area all together.

Not that I minded – in fact, I was kind of glad. We had come so far in only a day, and it was a bit of a relief to not jump straight into everything that being boyfriends entailed.

The opportunity to take a breather came later in the afternoon. Ali showed up with, I was surprised to see, Bella trailing behind her. Esme, of course, welcomed them in as if they were both my family, or her own.

Ali looked much as she had all week, wearing dark colors and those crazy amber contacts that shifted each time she blinked. She was in baggy army-green cargo pants and some black mesh tank top thing that I didn't really understand. Bella was sporting her typical nondescript jeans and sweater look, appearing even more conventional next to Alice's new foray into goth stylings. Or was that punk? Emo? I had no idea.

Just as the girls were taking off their coats Rosalie slipped past us, obviously eager to get away from us and our birthday celebration.

She paused, though, just steps in front of Alice and took a few seconds to look her over, head to toe.

"Angst looks good on you," she mused, before stalking out the front door.

We all did our best to pretend that hadn't happened. It certainly didn't help Ali's moon (mood) though.

Conversation was a little stilted after the expected 'happy birthday's, reminding me that regardless of how far Jas and I had come in only a week, Alice and I were still very much at odds. She wasn't yelling at me anymore, but hadn't really managed to smile since I dropped off her clothes either – at least, not at me. In fact, every morning her smile was pointed directly away from my car, towards Mr. Tall, Dark and Gangly.

After a few more pleasantries Jasper finally asked how set design was going, which put some perk into Alice's posture. Sitting on the couch beside Jas, I wanted to squeeze his hand or bump his shoulder in thanks for the effortless way he seemed to put everyone at ease, but I knew it would be too obvious a gesture.

Ali rambled on, talking very seriously about the strategies behind well-designed sets, and how friendly all the designers and techies were.

I supposed I should be happy that she was making more friends, even if it meant she was avoiding me at school. Bella, beside her, looked wistful but threw in occasional comments of the backdrops she'd seen and the plot of Midsummer Night's Dream. I wondered if she was jealous or lonely now that Alice was spending so much time with the theater group, but she never actually said anything to suggest it.

Esme poked her head into the living room eventually, a clutch of herbs from her window-sill garden in one hand. "I was thinking of roast chicken for tonight. Girls, are you staying for dinner?"

Bella blushed at some invisible cue, but Alice piped right up and said, "No thanks, Esme. We have plans."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Plans?"

"It's a party," Bella informed us, like she wasn't sure whether to grin or spit at the word 'party'. "We'd invite you but, uh." Her eyes flickered to Ali's, whose expression made it damn clear that they would not invite us, regardless of whether or not Bella came up with an excuse.

Not that I wanted to go to some freshman party, anyway.

Luckily, Jas waved away Bella's stuttering and chuckled, effectively masking any awkward ill-intent Alice was harboring. "Don't worry 'bout us. I'm sure Edward and I can amuse ourselves for the night."

Damn straight we could.

"Is Charlie taking you?" I asked. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about the goings-on at any Charlie-approved party.

"Actually," Bella answered, "Dad's coming too. He has some friends on the rez."

"You're going to a rez party?" I blurted, unable to contain my surprise and curiosity. The rez was known for some seriously rowdy shit. Their parties were full of salvia or peyote or peace pipes, or whatever it was they passed around, not to mention all the plain old weed and booze. Or, so I'd heard, as I'd never actually been invited to one. "Did Seth Clearwater invite you?"

As soon as I said his name Alice turned to face Bella completely, making emphatic eye contact that spoke loudly of everything she was silently thinking. "Bella!" she hissed.

Her hands were balled by her sides, and Bella immediately recoiled into the stiff sofa cushions behind her.

I stuck a hand out to shield Bella from her mental daggers, though it did no good. "She didn't say anything. Charlie told me."

Alice deflated some, removing her aggressive stare from Bella, but didn't apologize to her. "Oh."

"Ahh," Jasper proclaimed loudly, taking the bait since he was the only one she was unlikely to be angry with. "So Alice here is rather fond of this Seth guy." He knew who Seth Clearwater was, I had filled him in on everything, but he was probably right not to tell Ali that.

"He likes me too," she muttered, avoiding any and all eye contact. "He's my, um…"

"Boyfriend," Bella bravely finished for her. "He asked her out two days ago."

It didn't escape my notice that my baby sister, who was four years younger and barely into high school, got herself a boyfriend before I did. But that wasn't the point.

Her ire seemed to have faded to discomfort and she was idly picking at the loose threads of her mesh top. "Ali," I said quietly, "that's awesome."

Through her thick eyelashes and messy, cropped bangs, she finally looked up at me. "Yeah, it really is," she said, a small smile twisting away at her lips.

I knew then that it was this Seth guy who was behind all her smiles this week. Even the one directed at me was because of him. That must have been why she was all cheery on Thursday – he'd asked her out.

As much as it weirded me out that my little sister was dating, and that this Seth guy could talk to her and get her to smile and laugh when I couldn't, I was relieved to know that something was making her happy, at least.

"I can't wait to meet him," I said earnestly.

And, bam. The smile was gone.

"I don't know," she hedged, and Jasper let out a low chuckle at her rapid mood swings. She continued, "It might be kind of awkward. He's not like anyone around."

"Oh, come on Ali. I've met rez kids before."

A jolt of anger flashed across her face. "He's not a rez kid."

"Okay. Okay, sorry." I held up my hands defensively. Clearly I had stepped on a sore subject, and I had no interest in aggravating her further.

"Anyway. I think if he's gonna be hanging out with our girls here," Jas commented casually, cracking his knuckles for effect, "we definitely have to meet him."

"No!" Ali protested. "No. That's the other thing. You don't get to be all annoying and over-protective." As she said so, she flexed her delicate arms and puffed out her chest in what I was sure was a terrible impression of me.

"Aww," Jas faked a whine, still trying to keep things light. "But that's half the fun. We'll get to beat up your boyfriends, won't we Bella?"

He turned to her with a wink that brought a whole new shade of red into her flushed cheeks.

"Seriously," I asked, trying to keep the levity in my voice. "Don't I get to meet him? I promise not be intimidating."

She rolled her eyes, finally relaxing back against the love seat. "You're not intimidating, Edward."

"Sure I am," I tried to joke, but any hints of amusement drifted from her face as swiftly as they'd come.

"Edward," she said with rigid eye contact. "You can't protect me from everything. Stop trying."

The implications of her words were not lost on me, and anything I might have said got stuck in my throat. I really wanted to keep talking, to push through the isolation and turmoil to find common ground again, like Jasper and I had this morning. It was clear, though, that the rift between Ali and me would not be so easy to repair.

When Esme leaned through the kitchen doorway moments later to ask if anyone wanted to help ice the cake, Ali shot up without another word.

"I think she's just nervous," Bella said helpfully.

"It's not like I would ever be mean to her new boyfriend."

"I know," she said with a delicate shrug. "I told her you'd be happy for her no matter who she dated. I mean, she'd do the same for you. Even if you liked someone unexpected."

Bella was studiously picking at her fingernails as she spoke, and it afforded Jas and I the chance to steal a look at each other.

"Anyway," she continued. "He's really nice. You'll like him."

She jumped up then, and followed after Alice to the kitchen.

"Well," Jas said, clearing this throat. "That was interesting."

Sure, if interesting meant temperamental and laden with subtext. Jas had done his best to smooth the conversation over, though.

"Thanks for trying."

He shot me a resigned half-smile before we, too, headed to the kitchen.

Carlisle soon joined us with an envelope for me. We all completely ruined our appetites for dinner with coconut cake, which was delicious, before Ali and Bella pulled out small packages wrapped in last week's comics section like my mom used to do when we were kids.

I had long since become accustomed to exchanging gifts with the Cullens, so I thanked everyone and happily opened the few presents they'd set out. Carlisle and Esme had written me a long note, which I took the time to silently read before them. It welcomed me into their home, officially, and promised to help me move into and furnish a dorm room, wherever I went to college. I knew that, despite being only ink and paper, I was actually holding a very expensive present in my hands. I resigned myself to wait until later to haggle over how much they would contribute financially, though.

The P.S. of their letter mentioned a little something to help me make an impression when I finally did have to meet a whole school full of new people. The small box they pushed towards me held a bottle of cologne, which I hesitantly spritzed on my arm and let the girls smell. They both nodded enthusiastically, but it was Jas's reaction I paid the closest attention to. He said nothing, but his eyes were slightly unfocussed in a way I was just beginning to realize indicated desire.

I sprayed a bit more on my neck, and moved along.

Alice gave me a wool scarf that looked very Halloween-ish with its thick black and orange stripes until I read the Princeton name embroidered into it. Under that were the words 'Class of 2014'. It reminded me that I hadn't yet told her my change of heart about leaving the northwest – hell, I hadn't told her about any of the recent changes in my life – but I thanked her warmly anyway.

The box from Jasper held a duplicate of my Forks High Track jersey, which puzzled me until I turned it over to see RACIN' MASEN written on the back where my name belonged. I felt proud at the thought of my opponents seeing that as I beat them to the finish line. Especially if that opponent was Jacob Black.

Bella's gift turned out to be a mixed CD that she had made herself. A quick glance at the track listings revealed, well, nothing. I couldn't tell what mood or theme she was going for with such a wide variety of music, but I thanked her all the same.

We all chatted amicably for a while, but as the girls made to leave Esme stood up and announced, "Actually, Alice, I have something for you too."

Ali looked at me questioningly, but I had no answers for her as Esme led her towards the guest room. Carlisle, who seemed to be the only other person who knew what was going on, took that moment to excuse himself.

When Ali returned more than ten minutes later with a paper bag tucked under her arm, her first move was to punch her tiny fist straight into my arm. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell shocked me.

I protected my bicep with my other hand and asked, "What the hell, Ali?"

She leaned toward me to whisper harshly, "That's for telling Esme to buy me tampons."

I pulled away from her, astounded and stuttering. "What? No, I—. That's not what… Tampons?" Who had ever said anything about tampons? That was a subject I was glad to know next to nothing about.

I remembered, then, the slew of questions I'd come to Esme with, and her promise to talk to Alice. They had been gone long enough that I assumed Esme had done more than just hand over a box of supplies.

I'd have to remember to thank Esme later.

I was still completely unprepared to actually sit there and discuss tampons, of all things, with my sister.

Apparently, watching me get all flustered and spluttering was payback enough, because the hint of a smirk tugged at her mouth. She sighed, completely exasperated, but I got the feeling I was at least partially forgiven.

After that, though, Alice was more than ready to escape the Cullen household, and Jas and I walked the girls to the door as Esme got her keys.

I was surprised again when Alice slipped her arms around my waist for a quick hug. It was hard to hear, but I think she whispered, "Thanks."

Louder, she said, "Don't ever do that again."

I could tell from the crinkle at her eyes that she still thought that my approaching Esme about her woman-ness was funny, so I just nodded along penitently.

"Happy birthday, Edward."

"Thanks, Ali."

Jasper's relief was practically palpable when they left. I couldn't blame him; Alice's mood swings were certainly jarring. I had seen her smile, though, and these days that was all it took to count as a good day in my book.

Plus, as much as I enjoyed the insight into my sister's new social life, it was still easier when it was just me and Jas.

We spent the rest of the evening just hanging out, by which I mean making out, in between watching movies and having a generally lazy day.

Esme came to wish us goodnight in a quieter moment, and smiled warmly when I confirmed that I did, indeed, have a wonderful birthday. She ruffled Jas's hair on her way out of the room, but stopped and turned with her nose wrinkled. After a brief pause, she let out a soft laugh.

"Maybe a little less cologne next time, for both of you. Goodnight, boys."

I felt a blush invade my cheeks almost immediately but, luckily, she had already shut the door behind her. Jasper, too, was transfixed. His eyes had gone so wide they were practically bugging out of his head.

After we were sufficiently sure Esme was out of hearing range, Jasper burst into a fit of bashful giggles, and I quickly joined in.

"Do I smell like you?" he asked, approaching me and offering his arm for a sniff.

"I don't know," I said, not even bothering. "I already smell like me, so I can't tell."

"No more cologne," he said decisively.

I agreed. No more cologne.

I soon traipsed off to the bathroom, as had become my routine. I found myself in front of the mirror debating with myself, but found that it was a fairly easy decision to finally lose the night shirt. I pulled it over my head impulsively before stepping back into the bedroom in my boxers. Upon seeing me, Jas dropped the shirt that was in his hands back into his drawer and turned to me, all smiles and skin.

He had this line that ran straight down his stomach, defining his abs, that disappeared into the small tuft of dirty blond hair escaping from his boxers. It was a pretty line. I did my best not to stare.

_You've seen it before_, I told myself. _You've had full access to those muscles all day_, but it didn't seem to help.

We soon crawled into bed, happy but exhausted. Making out is taxing work, apparently.

Not so taxing that we didn't resume once we were under the covers, though. It was practically comical how, now that we'd admitted our feelings, we spent nearly every moment of the day expressing physical affection.

I lay in the thin space between his arms and his body, with one arm and one leg flung over him. His hands swept large arcs across my back, pressing me securely against him.

It was the first time that we had been both shirtless and intimate, ever. The sheer amount of skin we had touching was completely breathtaking.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, tracing the muscles of his stomach and feeling the tiny quivering breaths he took whenever I brushed my fingers over a particularly sensitive spot.

My crotch was pressed up against his thigh, just as his was to mine, and the sensations were divine. Within just a few minutes of smooching and rubbing I was so flushed that I threw the covers off to below our knees. I could feel our chests, slick with sweat, slide against each other as we moved.

For all my previous self control and hesitance, I couldn't help but rub myself gently against his leg. Jas, too, was undulating his hips so that I could feel his stiffness move against me. I kissed him desperately, moving my lips from his mouth to his neck to his ear.

He seemed to like it when I ran the tip of my tongue along the shell of his ear. And by like it, I mean his hands would grab at my flesh and his whole body would tense as he made these soft, breathy moans. I delighted in bringing him that kind of pleasure, and did it several times just to feel his reaction. I loved the need with which he grabbed at me, and the feeling of being wanted and possessed at the same time.

As I ran my hands along the smooth skin of his broad shoulders and chest, the pads of his fingers were gently tracing the top hem of my boxers. When they dipped below the fabric, onto the bare skin of my ass, I stilled. Craning my neck to look at him, I found him watching me attentively. When I made no move to stop him, though, he continued palming me in a long sweep that followed the curve of my behind to the crease where it met the back of my thigh. That, I found, was a very sensitive spot, and I gritted my teeth to keep quiet.

"Does that feel good?" Jas whispered, as I burrowed my face in his neck. He made the sweep a few more times, pushing my straining hard-on against his body each time. Eventually, he let the tips of his fingers slip down to my inner thigh before sliding back up, and I nodded shamelessly as I panted heavily against his skin.

My whole body felt awkward and out of place, but my skin was tingling with the sensation of his touch and I couldn't bring myself to care. My dick felt like it was pulsing against his leg of its own accord.

When he twisted his hand to grip my hip, actually letting his thumb fall below my body and swipe across the tender skin just inside my hipbone, I groaned softly and gave up trying to do anything but feel. Instead, I just wrapped my fingers around his muscular shoulders and hung on.

He had never been so bold before, but then, I had never wanted it so badly either. I was astounded that, with just the tiny circle of his thumb beside my pubic bone, he had reduced me to incoherency. To be fair, though, I had been aching for him all day without any hope of receiving such a wonderful gift as this.

He skimmed his free hand across my heated back to grip my other hip, and continued massaging my sensitive skin on both sides, stretching both his hands until they were practically touching my dick. The teasing was unbearable, as with each circle he got progressively closer to where I so desperately wanted him to touch, but refused to actually make contact. I couldn't help but groan more loudly as my hips made shallow thrusts into his waiting hands.

I was almost embarrassed by how shamelessly I needed his touch, but then I remembered how he'd pressed his steel erection into me this morning – the same erection that was presently trapped against my thigh – and I gave up trying to restrain myself. I pushed myself fully against his leg, and my groans turned into a sharp whimper.

"Do you want this?"

I nodded desperately, whispering my pleas against his neck, and he moved one finger to the tip of my dick, tracing it gently.

I had obviously taken a hand to myself countless times, but it'd felt nothing like this. I wanted his hands on me so badly, I was reduced to begging.

"Please, Jas. I'm sorry, I just n—"

"Shh," his cool breath hit the sweat on my neck. "No sorries." As he said so, his full hand cupped the base of my shaft and gave it a quick squeeze.

I was flooded with so much sensation and relief, I nearly popped.

"I love touching you," he murmured, and I clutched myself to him harder so that I was moaning directly into his ear. "It's so sexy to hear you moan for me."

He shifted my hips away from his leg to that he could get a complete grip on my shaft, using the precum I had been leaking to slicken his way. He somehow maneuvered his other hand to tug lightly on my balls, and I couldn't help but moan deeply.

"Ugh, god. Jasper."

He moaned in response, repeating the actions several times while I trembled and moaned helplessly against him.

Simultaneously, he palmed my balls and slid his slick fist down my shaft, and I just couldn't take it anymore.

I seized up, pressing my throbbing dick into his hand one last time and shot jets of hot stickiness all over my stomach and arm. My whole body convulsed, and the unrestrained cries I made into his skin made Jasper groan in return.

When I finally settled down, I left my face pressed into the sweaty curve of Jas's neck.

"Edward," he called on a whisper, planting tender kisses in my sweaty hair. "Edward, look at me."

I finally did, and when I met his gaze his eyes shone with intensity even in the near-darkness.

"That was the gift I wanted to give you. Happy birthday." He seemed so pleased with himself, and with me, and he never took his eyes off mine.

"We made a mess," I lamented, but he just chuckled with a crooked smile.

"Sure did."

He kissed me once, his tongue hot against my own, before gingerly sliding his hand out of my boxers and rolling out of the bed. Once the rush of my orgasm subsided, I felt weighted and heavy against the soft pillows that smelled like cologne and Jasper and sweat. He wiped himself off with a dirty shirt from his hamper, before bringing another one over to me.

When he slid back into bed, quickly dabbing at the remaining mess with the second t-shirt, I reached for him.

He grabbed my wrist, though, restraining me. "You can barely keep your eyes open," he commented, amused.

"I know," I said, still making an uncoordinated attempt to run my hands along his taught stomach. "But you—"

"In the morning," he whispered, tucking me into his side like I'd been before. "Sleep now."

I was so tired it was difficult to argue, but I kissed him in thanks and told him how lucky I was to have such a sexy boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._

The last thing I remember from the night was nuzzling my head against Jas's shoulder as I lay half on top of him, one leg tangled with his, all sweaty and shirtless and drowsily content. He planted one final kiss in my hair as he pulled the covers up to our waists.

I was awoken, far earlier than I would have liked, by a loud noise I couldn't place.

I stirred against Jasper, still cradled against his side, with his hand splayed against my back.

"What was that?" I mumbled.

"Dunno. Sleep." He sounded even groggier than I felt.

Our peaceful half-sleep didn't last long though because, within a few minutes, there was a loud rap at the door. We had no time to respond before Esme marched herself into the room, clearly furious.

I barely had time to process that we'd been caught half-naked in bed together. Her disbelief registered, though, and a sinking feeling came over me when she said, "Family meeting in the kitchen in half an hour. Shower first."

She was almost in the doorway when she looked back over her shoulder to add a stern, "Separately."

* * *

**Alright guys, let me know what you are thinking. Pretty pretty please with a shirtless Edward on top. **

**A huge thank you to my fantabulous beta, Elvelethril, who trudged through the dark and the cold to the library to get this back to me.**

**Also, some pimping: There is an author auction going on at www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com, where all the proceeds will go to support children's cancer. Signed merchandise by your favorites and other goodies are available, and there are tons of authors participating including yours truly. Check it out.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

"_Family meeting in the kitchen in half an hour. Shower first." She was almost in the doorway when she looked back over her shoulder to add a stern, "Separately." _

* * *

Jasper and I were seated at the kitchen table without touching. Our chairs were a respectable and non-romantic distance apart as we waited for Esme and Carlisle. I'd heard them come down the stairs, but they seemed to be conferring one last time before they delivered their news – whatever it was.

I fidgeted, I couldn't help it. This was such bad luck, such awful timing. Why had Esme come into his room anyway? Had she heard something from last night? Or maybe Rosalie had seen something before… either thought was equally mortifying. Obviously Esme was mad, but she was usually such a gentle woman that her harsh demeanor had come as a shock. I knew that she was still wound pretty tightly over Rosalie's behavior, and I wondered if her foul mood was specifically for us, or over the woes of parenting in general.

Jasper and I had showered, _separately_, but I could barely think anything besides 'oh shit.' Even if this family meeting wasn't about us, we had most definitely been caught and would have to face the consequences. I didn't know exactly what we'd looked like to her, but it certainly wasn't 'just friends'.

When Jas had slipped out from beneath me, I'd felt the anxiety starting to rise up. It crept over me like it always did, flaming up from an uneasy knot in my stomach to flush down my arms and legs, making me hot and sweaty. After a minute or so, I was too warm to even lie beneath the covers, and I'd kicked them off in aggravation.

When I'd called out to him, asking what we should do, he poked his head out of the bathroom.

"I don't know," he'd said matter-of-factly. "But we'll do it together."

He didn't say any more, though, which was unusual for him. Despite his outwardly calm façade, I knew that in most cases he would joke about the chaos in my head, and promise it would all be okay.

He didn't, and I noticed.

I tried to remember his words as we sat in the kitchen, not touching or making eye contact. Together.

Esme and Carlisle pulled out their chairs and sat, glancing at each other but staying silent.

It was Jas who spoke up first. "Where's Rose?"

Carlisle clasped his hands on the table and raised one eyebrow. "She spent the night at Lauren's. Do you really want her here for this?"

Well, that had an obvious answer, but no one bothered to say it.

Clearing her throat, Esme began to speak. "Your father and I are very disappointed in you, Jasper. And you too, Edward."

I tensed, turning my focus to the sweaty hands in my lap so I wouldn't have to see the accusation in her eyes as she continued.

"We trusted you both, welcomed Edward into our home unconditionally, and this is how you behave?"

My wet hair hung limply in my face and the panic I'd felt earlier was starting to flare up again. My whole body felt chilled and overheated at the same time. Anxiety was one of those things that never got easier, no matter how long I lived with it, and it was hard to concentrate on Esme's words with all the thoughts running through my bowed head.

How could we have been so careless?

So this family meeting really was about us?

How had she found out anyway?

What would our punishment be? Esme was mad – madder than I'd ever seen her – and from what I could tell Carlisle agreed with her every bit. They were doing their best to put up a unified parental 'angry' front.

Would we be grounded? Forced to sleep apart? Would they ask me to leave?

Oh god, would they tell Jasper to stay away from me?

That thought was nearly suffocating. As intertwined as he and I were, taking him away would be like taking away practically… everything. They couldn't. I would do anything they asked, I'd find someplace – anyplace – else to live if I had to, so long as they still let me see Jasper.

I could feel my pulse pounding in my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of worries and emotions.

"Obviously," Esme was saying, her voice clipped and clinical, "there are going to be some changes."

Jas didn't say anything right away, and I couldn't bear to look up as a heavy beat of silence passed over the table. Right as he opened his mouth to speak, though, I beat him to it.

I didn't know what he was going to say, but I figured that if we could at least appease his parents then maybe we wouldn't lose everything. Maybe leaving was the best option – that way we didn't have to rub this in their faces.

"I'm sorry," I choked out.

"Mm hmm. And what are you sorry for?" Esme intoned, sounding like a school matron making a student recount his crimes.

I shook my head, because I didn't know. Everything? Anything? "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I can go. If you want, I can le—"

"No!" Jasper barked so suddenly that my head snapped up. His eyes were on me, a mixture of shock and anger, but he quickly turned to plead with his mother. "Mom, no."

His left arm reached out, settling a hand over mine in my lap. His parents couldn't see that, obviously, but we were sitting far enough apart that he had to hold his arm almost straight out to reach me, making his gesture all the more obvious.

Carlisle had both his hands clasped on the table, tapping his thumbs against each other, and eyed the length of Jasper's arm to where it disappeared below the line of the table.

Finally, he said his first words, tight-lipped though they were. "How long as this been going on?"

"It ha—" I started, but a quick squeeze of Jasper's hand told me to hold that thought.

"A week," he answered truthfully.

"But we've only been dating since yesterday," I chimed in.

"Ahh," Carlisle answered coolly, "so you are dating. There's that, then."

I cringed internally. So much for down-playing it.

Both Carlisle and Esme were watching us like our twitches or breathing patterns would give up our whole story, and it was starting to unnerve me. My sense of unrest still hadn't faded, even with Jasper's hand on mine. I just wanted them to say something – what our punishment was, or what they were thinking. Anything, really.

Jasper must have been feeling skittish too, because his next words were, "What were you doing in my room anyway?"

"The plumber was coming," Esme answered simply.

A plumber? That… wasn't what I expected. What did a plumber have to do with anything?"

I'm sure Jas looked just as confused as I did, because when she explained it was in an even voice, like she knew we'd be unable to find her in the wrong. "One of the pipes burst upstairs. I wanted to warn you boys to get up, before the plumber needed to get in your room."

Honestly, her answer left me a bit flabbergasted. Coming to warn us about a plumber? That just sounded so… mundane, so innocent. I'd been imagining something far more incriminating.

Jas was still on the defensive though. "And, what? Decided our punishment then and there?" It was uncharacteristic for Jasper to be so brusque, but more than anything I was just relieved he was doing the talking.

Esme noticed his tone, though, and bristled in response. "No," she over-enunciated. "I closed the door as fast as I could and came to talk with your father. We decided a family meeting would be best."

"Oh," Jas answered, withering a bit.

If Esme had come in once, while we were still asleep, that meant that not only had she seen us groggy and startled, but she had seen us… cuddling. There was just no denying that I'd slept as absolutely intertwined with Jasper as possible: my face nestled into his neck, my arm wrapped around his bare chest and my foot tucked between his legs. We were exactly what we looked like. Lovers.

Chances were she had slammed the door on her way out, waking us up, though whether that was intentional I had no idea.

Jas seemed to come to the same set of conclusions, because he took a deep breath and straightened his back, as if steeling himself against something.

His eyes darted to me briefly, but I was no help – I had no idea what to say or do.

He never took his hand off mine but made sure to look each of his parents in the eyes. Quietly but determinedly he said, "Mom, Dad, I'm gay."

Esme gasped softly, and I did too.

Gay.

No one had said that word yet, but there it was. Gay. Jesus, who knew he was going to make such a declaration?

That wasn't just a casual thing to say – it's not as if you could label and unlabel yourself on a whim. He must have thought about it, for who knows how long, and come to that conclusion.

Jasper was gay, and he knew it.

Did that mean I was? Did dating a gay guy make me one too? I had no idea, and my head spun as I realized this was something I needed to think about. I suddenly felt like I was supposed to pick a label, but I wasn't really sure which one to grab at. It was one thing to know how I felt about Jasper, but another thing altogether to make such a bold statement about all men ever.

The silence that enveloped us was overwhelming until Esme whispered, "Oh Jas. Honey." Her expression changed to a mixture of compassion and sadness. Carlisle nodded stoically.

Belated, I realized that this was a really big step in Jasper's life. I mean, holy crap, he had just come out of the closet… to his parents.

I hadn't even thought about closets yet.

I flipped the hand that was under his so that they were palm to palm and gave him a little squeeze of reassurance. It was what he'd do for me, and I knew this was too important to fuck up. This was about more than just us, and I could always count on Jas to have my back when I was anxious about dealing with my dad. I owed it to him to have his back now, especially since I didn't know how long I'd be allowed to stick around.

My head spun when I realized they still hadn't said whether they wanted me to leave, but in that moment it was Jas who was in the hot seat, even if he was trying not to show it. I poured as much energy and support into his hand as I could, squeezing it tight and rubbing little circles across his warm skin. I kept my eyes on his carefully neutral face, but felt his hand grip back, hard.

After another few moments, Jasper cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, "Mom?"

Esme fingered her jewelry nervously. "I'm sorry, sweety. I'm just so shocked. I don't know what to say."

To be honest, as I watched Esme's eyes track over Jasper's face and vice versa, I had the hint of a feeling this would all turn out alright. Esme and Carlisle loved Jasper, immeasurably, and were two of the most supportive parents I knew. Even in such an awkward moment, both his parents were considering his words carefully. In the end, I fully expected them to embrace him and his gayness – it was just the 'us' part of this equation that I was worried about. They would always love Jasper unconditionally, but I was the guest – the other boy.

Jas swallowed hard, and implored her, "Can you just say it's okay?"

At his plea, she sprang into action immediately, reaching for him across the table. "Oh, sweety!"

Jasper's free hand had been in his lap, but he brought it up to the table for her to grasp.

"Of course it's okay! I love you, no matter what. We both do."

On cue, Carlisle leaned forward, placing his hand over his wife and son's. "Of course we do. You're my son, and I love you, straight or gay."

I was a little bit jarred by how easily that word passed his lips, but Jasper had other concerns. He looked straight at Carlisle and asked, "But you're disappointed?"

He sighed lightly, glancing to Esme, before speaking. "No, Jas, I'm not disappointed about this. We're not," he amended. "Would I have wished this for you? No."

Esme hissed softly, flashing him a disapproving look, but he continued on.

"I don't like knowing you'll have to deal with more than your share of bigotry and persecution in your life. But, as I told Mom this morning, I've actually suspected that you two weren't just friends for quite some time." He looked at me, then, including me in the conversation. "Frankly, I'm shocked this is all so recent."

"Well," Esme spoke again, "I just wish you had told us sooner. It bothers me to no end to know that I missed something so important."

Carlisle patted her hand over Jasper's and looked to her fondly. "I have the advantage, dear. I was a boy too, once, and I remember what most teenage boys are generally like. The signs were a bit more obvious to me."

With that, he actually grinned. The anxiety that had been crawling up my throat like heartburn finally started to fade as I realized that both he and Esme were completely supportive of Jasper. I still wanted to ask Carlisle what exactly made us so obvious because I sure as hell didn't know – I was with Esme on that. More than that, though, I was just relieved to see him so at ease.

"I just thought you two best friends," Esme lamented.

"We were," I answered, right as Jas said, "We are."

I had to think about that for a moment. So, he thought we were best friends, even now that we were dating. It quickly dawned on me that he didn't find the two mutually exclusive, and I couldn't help how that thought doused my anxiety almost entirely.

Jas turned to me, then, a tinge of sadness in his blue eyes, but I was grinning like the smitten fool I was. "We are," I corrected myself, "we still are."

As Jasper took in what I'd said, I was treated to the stunning sight of pure joy blooming across his face. The corner of his lips twitched, his pupils dilated, and he leaned almost imperceptibly towards me until his smile practically stretched from ear to ear. He beamed at me, and he was beautiful.

I wanted to kiss him, to wrap my arms around his firm body and whisper words of friendship and devotion, but this was neither the time nor place. I settled for pulsing my hand around his, which he mimicked in response.

From my peripheral vision I could see that Esme had one hand pressed over her heart with wide, glossy eyes that told me she thought we were absolutely 'precious'. At that point, my anxiety dissipated entirely.

It was clear from that look on her face that she wouldn't ask me to leave, and I felt better for it.

She left her hand over her heart when she sighed, "I'm just not sure how we're going to tell Rosie."

Tell Rosalie? Why would we tell her? That seemed like asking for guaranteed chaos in the house, and I didn't want to subject the Cullens to that any more than I wanted to live through it myself.

"Do we have to?" I asked with a cringe.

Jas twisted one side of his mouth up into a thoughtful expression and looked to me before facing his parents again. "I don't think we should. Yet."

Carlisle and Esme looked to each other, having one of those silent parental conversations with their blinks and head-tilts, but eventually agreed.

"Fair enough," Carlisle said. "We'll let you boys decide how you want to handle it."

That was a relief. Even though I didn't want to have to handle it at all, really, I was just happy to put it off 'til later.

"I'm glad you're not mad," I said to them.

Esme rolled her eyes a tad playfully as she said, "Oh, we're definitely mad."

I felt Jasper stiffen beside me as I tensed into a similar state of alarm. _What?_ But we had just discussed it all so openly, so happily. She was even still smiling!

"Did you think we wouldn't mind you two sharing a bed?" she asked, disbelieving. "We trusted you two, took Edward into our home, and it turns out you two were running around behind our backs."

"You know we have very strict rules for Rose when Emmett's over, and the same apply to you," Carlisle added.

"We gave you freedom, and you turned that into sleeping together, half naked." I blanched when she spelled it out like that. "That's a complete betrayal of our trust."

"Mom," Jas started to say, but Esme held up her hand.

"For now, we're willing to consider it a brief oversight. But we expect you to follow the same rules as Rose." She began counting them off on her fingers. "Door open at all times. You'll sleep in separate rooms from now on. No contact or phone calls after bed."

"Mom" Jas said, with a hint of a whine to his voice, "we didn't have to do that stuff before."

"Exactly," Carlisle answered. "A point which you took full advantage of this morning."

_Actually_, I thought_, we took full advantage of that last night, when Jasper had his hand down my— _

I needed to focus! I felt my cheeks flush as I forced myself not to think of that, but from the quirk of Carlisle's eyebrow I think he noticed.

Eager to draw attention back to the conversation, I quickly agreed. "Those rules sound fair. And… thank you. For letting me stay, I mean."

Esme turned to me and, for the first time all morning,unleashed the full force of her maternal warmth on me. Her head tilted to the side and she looked so kind and loving as she said, "Of course, Edward. You're a keeper."

I flushed again at her words, but this time didn't try to hide it.

"Of course," she continued, "that means you're accountable to all the same rules. If you break them, you'll both be grounded."

This part of the conversation was much less fun but, since I was technically getting everything I'd hoped, for I nodded along. Jas grumbled a bit, but I think it was mostly for show.

Eventually the plumber was finished with his round of checking all the bathrooms and came to get Esme's attention. His heavy tool belt looked like it would bring his pants down with the slightest shift of weight, but she maintained dutiful eye contact while they discussed the extent of the water damage, which didn't seem too dire.

Carlisle drew my attention back to the table as he began to stand up. "Well, guys, the Pathology department is schmoozing some investors over lunch, and I've got to be there. Jasper?" He beckoned for Jasper to come with him to the door.

As they passed me Carlisle let a hand fall softly onto my shoulder. He didn't say anything, but gave me a warm, reassuring smile. I nodded in thanks, and he nodded back before proceeding with Jas.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but after they each answered a few yes or no questions, Carlisle pulled him into a hug. Not an awkward father-son man hug, but a true embrace, and I was momentarily distracted by the ripple of longing that ran up my spine.

The Cullens were amazing people, full of love and acceptance. Even with such a sensitive topic, they said what they were thinking and feeling openly. The way Jasper had asked for Esme's acceptance and she had just given it – the simplicity of it was mind-boggling, because all they did was speak from the heart.

Why couldn't my dad do that? Or Alice?

Before slipping through the front door, Carlisle called out, "Be good!" and Jasper crossed directly over to me.

"Hey Edward?" he asked with a drawl, sounding both giddy and coy. When he reached me he threw his arms around my neck, closing in until our noses were almost touching. The energy zinging from his body to mine and back again made me want to grab his hand and drag him to a secluded corner of the house where he could be coy all he wanted, as long as he did it with his hands on me.

"Yeah?"

"My mom thinks you're a keeper," he giggled before molding his lips to mine and eliminating every last inch of space between our bodies.

When he pulled back I rolled my eyes theatrically and said, "Oh, well, if your mom thinks so."

"Hush!" he scolded, still grinning like a child with a new toy.

I was moving my lips back towards his, trying to steal another kiss, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

Jas dropped his arms immediately, and it took me a moment to turn around and face Esme.

"Come on, boys," she said in a determinedly bright voice. "Someone has a guest room to move into."

I spent the next half hour doing exactly that: moving the clothes I had just placed into Jasper's dresser the week before down the hallway to the guestroom. With a short antique dresser, a small closet and a window facing the trees, it had everything I ever wanted from a room. Except Jas.

That night was not nearly as fun as the ones before it because Esme came downstairs at eleven o'clock sharp to announce that it was time we said goodnight. We did so under her watchful eye, without touching, and slinked quietly to our rooms.

Jas crept into guest room around eleven thirty for a more enthusiastic and much longer goodnight, but still slept in his own bed like we'd been told to do.

As I fidgeted in the strange bed, thinking over the day, I marveled at how good it had felt to have the Cullen's acceptance. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone about my newfound connection with Jas for fear that they would try to discourage or taint it, but sharing this new part of ourselves with his family just seemed to solidify everything. Being boyfriends took on a (much?) more tangible quality than it had the day before – instead of being some glossy and ethereal notion of happiness, dating Jas felt a little more like something I could hold onto, and count on.

Part of me wanted to tell Ali. I wanted to share this feeling of belonging with her, so that I wouldn't continue to feel more and more estranged from her.

The next morning, Jas agreed completely. He seemed all in favor of telling anyone I wanted to, so I planned on asking Ali when we took her to school to put aside some one-on-one time for me. She had been so busy and absent the week before, I felt like I needed to pencil myself in just to make sure we could stay updated on each other's lives.

I didn't get a chance to ask her much of anything, though, because she and Bella were too busy squealing in the back seat over that party at La Push. Seth had been 'so sweet' and 'absolutely amazing' and all sorts of other romantic platitudes that didn't actually tell me a thing about him.

I was just about to ask her what they actually did at this party when she announced, "And there's this guy who's totally got the hots for Bella too."

Bella's resounding cry made Jas and I cringe.

"Alice! I already told you, he does not! He's just a friend."

"Oh, he so totally does. Trust me, Bella, it was obvious."

Jas chimed in with a loud laugh. "Yes! Edward, Bella finally has a boyfriend we can beat up."

"I do not! Our dads have been friends for years. He's just a sweet guy, that's all."

"I don't know, Bella, are you sure?" Jasper teased.

"Positive!" she huffed, "We're just friends." In the rearview mirror I could see her folding her arms aggressively and blowing some errant hair out of her eyes.

Her pouting was absolutely adorable. "So Bella," I goaded her, "what's the name of this positively just-a-friend guy you're supposedly not dating?"

"Jacob Black."

In that moment, the whole conversation stopped being funny. Jas and I shared a look that said he too thought Black was no good for our little Bella.

"No," I said, probably a little too forcefully. "Bella, you can't date him."

"What?" she perked up. "Why not?"

"He's…" I searched for the right word, "creepy. And way too old for you."

That was, apparently, not a good enough reason for her because she only scowled more. "What if I like older guys?"

Ugh. Ten seconds ago she didn't even like his guy. What was her deal?

"We've met him," Jas said very seriously, turning around in the front seat to look at her. "And he seemed kind of dangerous. Just be careful, okay?"

"Fine. Whatever. We just went so Alice could see Seth, anyway."

Ali seemed to pick up her cue to distract us and chattered away about her new boy some more, but Bella mostly just glared out her window the whole way to school.

Since I didn't get the chance to talk to Ali in the car, I ventured off to find her at lunch. She and Bella were sitting with a bunch of older kids, and from the mix of both too-colorful and all-black outfits I figured they were the drama tech crowd.

'Sitting' was actually a loose term, because Bella had been shoved to the end of the bench and looked like she was about to fall off, and Alice was practically sprawled across Seth's lap while he kept her balanced with an arm around her shoulders. Seth noticed me first, but instead of waving me over or getting Ali's attention with the hand that was draped too low over her shoulder for my liking, he curled her closer into his body and away from me.

When we made eye contact, he scowled.

I didn't know what this kid's problem was, but he wasn't gonna stop me from talking to my sister. Unfortunately, though, I didn't get the chance because suddenly more than half the table stood up and filed quickly out the door, lugging poster-board and a few odd knick-knacks I couldn't identify with them.

I guessed they were headed to the auditorium to accomplish great feats of dramatic technicalities, or something, because Bella was left sitting alone at her end of the long table. She looked a little, well, abandoned, so I continued my way to the table and waited for her to notice me leaning my hip against it.

I probably startled her, because when she finally did look up her hand went straight over her heart the way Esme's did when she was surprised, and her cheeks turned that telltale shade of pink. Honestly, this girl should have the color named after her. Bella's Blush, or something. I acted like I didn't notice, though, because I knew how uncomfortable it could be to turn bright red in public, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

I invited her to come sit with Jas and me, since it looked like most of her friends had gone, but she said she had homework to finish.

Returning to the table where all the track guys sat, I resolved to stop by the drama room after practice to see Alice.

It seemed like more than just a few hours later when I was finally showering after practice – quickly, and as far away from Jas as possible. My years of experience in keeping my eyes above shoulder-level were paying off, now that the words JASPER-IS-NAKED seemed to be scrolling like a neon marquee through my head every time I thought about the locker room. Luckily, today I was almost too tired to care. Almost.

This particular practice had been grueling, because both Coach and Carlisle thought I was ready to ramp back up to my old training regimen. Today I'd been nearly ten seconds over my best time – miserable – so I'd run one lap after another to wake my muscle memory back up. I'd stopped every ten minutes or so to make sure my knee and calf weren't under too much strain, and it was the highlight of an otherwise discouraging practice that I could run for almost an hour before my knee started to protest. I figured it was the exhaustion that helped me keep my focus in the showers, because instead of taunting me with dirty thoughts and images of Jasper in this very room, my mind was mostly set on hoping he would be the one to drive us home.

I remembered at the last minute to stop by to see Ali, and told Jas I'd meet him at the car.

Initially, as I stood in the doorway to the drama room, she was nowhere to be seen. As I stepped over the threshold I gazed around, trying to pick out the tiniest, palest girl in the room. Even after I remembered that looking for our telltale auburn hair wouldn't work, I still couldn't spot her. Instead, I found the largest and darkest jackass, who was scowling at me from the steps of the miniature-stage at the front of the room. I was already tired of his hostile bullshit, but seeing him there reminded me that there was a 'backstage' of sorts, and that Ali might be back there.

The minute I even thought about approaching the stage, Seth was on his feet, snorting and charging at me like some skinny, awkward calf that thinks it has the horns of a full-grown bull. When he reached me he planted his feet and crossed his arms like some bouncer, preventing me from coming any farther into the room.

I was a little taken aback, because I'd thought for sure I was taller than him. Now, face to face, he actually had a bit of height on me. It was almost like he'd grown perceptibly over the weekend since I'd last seen him waiting for Ali in the parking lot.

Regardless, though, he didn't intimidate me. I didn't know what his problem was – probably some fucked up loyalty to the La Push High Wolves, because it was clearer now more than ever that he was a Quileute – but I didn't care. He could come to the races and cheer on Jacob Black, if he wanted to, so long as he treated Alice with the respect and sensitivity she deserved. So far, she seemed to be flustered with joy over this turd, so it was for her sake that I tried to be friendly.

"Hi," I said, with what I thought was an admirably polite tone. "I'm Alice's brother, Edward. You must be Seth."

His wide nostrils flared, and the frown etched onto his face never lifted. "I know who you are, Masen. What do you want?"

Masen? Was that supposed to scare me? No one ever called me Masen.

Except that… when I was on the track, they did. I wondered if, in Seth's head, this was some fucking turf war – not that that made any sense, since he was technically on my turf. Our mutual turf.

Plus, his sister was on the Forks High team.

What _was_ this guy's problem?

"I want to see my sister."

"She's not here."

Yeah, right. "Where is she?"

He raised one insolent eyebrow that seemed to say, 'As if I'd tell you.'

"Whatever," I said, backing out of the room and fishing my cell phone from my pocket. "I'll call her."

"Don't bother. She went to town to get some set supplies."

Town? The nearest craft store was miles away, and none of these underclassmen looked old enough to even have their permits. "Who's driving?" I demanded.

At that, Seth actually rolled his eyes. "Oh, so – what? You're worried about her safety now?"

Did this guy want me to hit him? 'Cause, honestly, it sounded like he was asking for it. She was my baby sister, and my only family left. Of _course_ I worried about her safety.

"Look," Seth spit out, still trying out his tough-guy persona. "She won't be back for a while. Why don't you just go."

As much as I hated the idea of following his suggestion – if it was actually that – there was no point in waiting around if Alice wasn't coming back soon. I threw my hands in the air, effectively admitting defeat, and told him to let Ali know I'd stopped by.

Mostly I said it just to see if he would.

When I got to my car, Jas was already in the driver's seat, ready to let me relax on the drive home. I would have kissed him right then and there except that I was still fuming, and Bella was watching us from the back seat.

After explaining how Seth had gone all aggressive and weird, I growled out, "What the fuck is his problem?"

Jas and I were exchanging some questioning looks when Bella piped up.

"He and Jacob _are_ really close, actually. Jake's like the big brother he doesn't have, or something."

I sighed, finally resting back into my seat. That explained it. Well, except that it didn't, not completely… but at least it was a start.

Finally feeling the full weight of my exhaustion, I let my head fall back against the headrest and let it roll until I was looking at Jas.

"Thanks for driving," I said quietly.

He looked up from the gearshift, smiled that soft, crooked smile that was just for me, and took us home.

The next morning, Alice was in a snit about how I'd supposedly barged into the theater room and been a dick to Seth. I couldn't seem to air my version of the story until I apologized, and when I told her I just wanted some time to talk to her she scoffed. Apparently set design was keeping her really busy, so she told me she'd find me when she had time to talk.

That kinda got under my skin, but I wasn't eager to get into another fight with her, so I let it slide.

When the girls tumbled out of the car at school, Jas caught my attention with the light brush of his hand on mine.

'You okay?' he mouthed, and I nodded because I was okay – or better than I had been, at least – with the feel of his skin against mine. It reminded me that even if Ali had suddenly made Seth the center of her world, Jas and I still rotated loyally around each other.

Alice didn't find any free time for me that day, or the next. By Thursday I had been thinking about what I wanted to say to her for so long that I was dreading the actual conversation. I mean, if I still didn't know which words to use, would I ever?

I couldn't just start off with "Hi, I'm gay" the way Jas had, 'cause I didn't even know if I was. I couldn't tell her how it all started, because it was all mixed in with the mess at Dad's house, and bringing that up was the quickest way to end a conversation with her. Also, I'd have to make sure to swear her to absolute secrecy, even if Seth was her new boyfriend and protector and BFF rolled into one. I had no idea what he'd think of me and Jas dating, and I didn't want to find out.

As it turned out, I didn't have to know what to say to Ali on Thursday either. Even though I still picked her up for school, there was no time to talk about anything personal. She was much too focused on chirping about the wonders of stage lighting and how much Seth could lift at once to let any conversation turn serious.

I was complaining about her avoidant tendencies, yet again, as we drove home that evening. Jas listened while I bitched, agreeing dutifully that Ali was stuck in some sort of unhealthy defense-mechanism, and that Seth was just an asshole.

The minute we got into the house, though, Esme whisked me into the kitchen to help set the table, and told Jas that Carlisle would like see him in the upstairs study. He and I exchanged apprehensive looks, but there was nothing we could do besides comply.

Esme kept me busy with tasks in the kitchen, and I folded napkins while confirming with myself that neither of us had been seen or heard while sneaking to each other's rooms. We'd never stayed very long, and our trips hadn't been for much more than the company and some passionate kissing – nothing that would draw attention to ourselves.

I had just finished everything and was trying to decide if I should wait in my new room or Jasper's when he came back down the stairs, looking flushed and shaken.

I was immediately at the foot of the stairs, waiting for him with a concerned look and open arms. "What did he say?"

Jas stopped a few steps above me, and said in a shell-shocked tone, "He wants to see you too."

I was confused, but nodded and started to move past Jasper. He stopped me with a hand on my arm and whispered, "Sex talk."

My eyes widened, and I was no longer concerned for Jas, but for myself. Sex talk? Carlisle wanted to talk? About sex? With me?

Jas saw my mortification, and it was mirrored in his own face as he gave me a slow, defeated nod. With a commiserating pat on my back, he pushed past me and left me to forge on ahead.

I didn't know how I would bring myself to knock on the study door, but Carlisle had left it gratuitously open so he saw me as soon as I reached the landing of the stairs.

"Edward," he smiled. "Come on in."

I sure as hell made sure to close the door behind me.

The room was decorated tastefully, and even had one of those large world maps on the wall that declared it a room of study and work. Two identical L-shaped desks sat in the middle of the room, pressed up against each other – the His and Hers of the professional world. Both had a glossy finish over fine, dark wood and brass loops hanging off each drawer, but Esme's had some fabric swatches on hers and Carlisle had piles of scientific textbooks on his.

Along the far wall, under a wide window that showcased the last few rays of the day's sunlight was a long couch with deep brown leather, where Carlisle motioned for us to sit.

I sat as far away from him as possible, and he gave me an understanding nod when he saw me arranging pillows so that there were more between us than behind my back.

"I'm guessing Jasper tipped you off?"

I couldn't quite force myself to answer, but I think it was obvious anyway that he had.

"Look, Edward. I don't want to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable, but as parents Esme and I want to make sure you're prepared for sex and all that it entails.

At that word I took in a sharp breath, and squeezed my eyes shut. Not even thirty seconds in, and he'd already brought up sex? I knew, right then, that this was going to be as awful as I'd feared. I covered my eyes with one hand, trying to block it out even farther while I took a few fortifying breaths. I was starting to feel a bit warm, and knew my cheeks must look flushed already.

I was quickly startled by the sound of Carlisle breathing loudly through his nose, and then couldn't help but be curious when I heard him chuckling quietly. I spread my fingers, peeking out at him from behind my hand.

When he noticed me looking he said, "I'm sorry, it's just… Jasper did that exact same thing when I started this talk with him. I think he must have gotten it from you."

Despite myself, I felt the corners of my mouth twitch at that thought. I guess that was the risk when you were so attuned to someone. I could only hope that I picked up some of Jasper's calm behavior in return.

Carlisle fixed his kind blue eyes on mine and said, "I don't want to drag this out any more than you do. I just want to make sure that you're safe, and well-informed. First, I have to ask, have you had sex yet, Edward?"

In an instant my cheeks were blazing – but not just them. My neck and chest and even my ears felt like they were burning up. Carlisle was watching me patiently, though, so I knew I wouldn't get out of answering. I supposed I could tell him it was none of his business, but that seemed more aggressive than I felt at the moment. Besides, I wanted him and Esme to trust us, and to know that we hadn't been stripping naked in their house all along while they thought we were doing homework.

My voice sounded weak and unsteady, cracking like it had during puberty, but I still managed to get out, "No. Jas and I—"

Carlisle put a hand out to stop me, looking away. He held that position, making it quite clear that I shouldn't say any more. I quickly understood his message – that this was a talk about sex, _not_ sex with his son.

"No," I croaked out again.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to me. "Alright. Well, I'm not going to tell you not to have sex, because I know that's just a waste of breathe. You're a teenager, and you can find ways to get away with whatever you want to. So, instead, I'm just going to say that when you do, there are a few things I want to make sure you know."

First, he talked about sex as an act of love, and how emotions can get tied up with it. That's not always the case, he'd said, but it's better when it is.

Next he talked about sex with women – the concerns and the technicalities. It sounded like he was reciting something he'd read, the way he was spouting off technical terms like a textbook. When he got to the word 'clitoris' he pronounced it in a detached, clinical way, but I still nearly choked on my own spit. I spent most of his talk tugging at my collar, trying to alleviate some of the heat was radiating from me. I tried to tune him out, thinking to myself, _I can't believe he really just said that. Please just let this be over._ _I can't believe this is actually happening. _When he picked up a brown paper bag and spilled a few condoms onto the couch cushions, I wondered desperately if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

Next, of course, he talked about sex with men. That was even worse, because I could tell he was uncomfortable too. He stumbled a lot more as he pointed out that there were different concerns when engaging in 'homosexual relations', as he put it. I was so mortified when he took a bottle of lube out of the bag that I actually began to sweat and had to take my sweater off.

Either he took pity on me, or was just as uncomfortable as I was, because at that point he told me I could go. As he said so, though, he shoved his show-and-tell items back in the bag and held it out to me. We both avoided each other's eyes when I reached out to take it, and then I practically ran to the door. The moment my hand grasped the knob, Carlisle cleared his throat and said, "Oh, Edward?"

I cursed internally, and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm before turning back to him. When I did, I could see that he, too, was pulling at the collar of his business shirt like it was choking him.

"Umm" he started hesitantly, looking anywhere but at me. "Given our recent plumbing problems, Esme has asked that you make sure not to flush anything unusual in the toilets."

Toilets? Plumbing? What was there to flush?

Seeing my confusion, Carlisle dragged a hand across his stubbly chin and sighed deeply. Finally, he looked right at me and mouthed the word 'Condom'.

The room was so hot it was actually hard to breathe. In that moment, I knew that it was possible to die of embarrassment because I was already dead. This – this was hell.

I raced downstairs without looking back, and didn't stop until I got to Jasper's room. I pushed past Rosalie on the way, who yelled out, "Hey!" but I didn't even slow down until I had Jas's door firmly shut behind me.

He was laying on his bed, smirking at me but still looking a little rattled himself. "That bad?" he asked.

"Worse," I confirmed, before moving to sit on the edge of the bed and bury my face in his neck. He ran his fingers through my hair, trailing the tips along my scalp, and it went a long way towards calming me down.

I couldn't stay there long, though, because within a few minutes Esme's voice rang out. "Door open, boys! And come to dinner."

I sighed and stood up. Jas looked so peaceful lying there that I just wanted to wrap myself around him and never leave.

"At least we know they've accepted this completely," he offered, pushing himself off the bed and standing beside me.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"So next time we get caught, don't be so quick to try to get away, okay?" he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. One look at his face told me he wasn't really teasing though. His eyebrows were knitted at a steep angle and his lips were tight.

"Jas," I tried to explain, but then the rest of what he'd said caught up with me. "Next time?"

A sly grin took over his features, and I could only imagine – but wanted to experience – the evil things he was picturing in his head.

"Next time," he promised, and I didn't think we were talking about his parents anymore. It quickly came to mind that we hadn't really explored any new territory since my birthday.

His gaze zeroed in on my lips and I leaned forward, eager for just a taste of what he was promising. His mouth came closer and closer but instead of feeling his lush, warm lips against mine I felt the sharp smack of his hand against my butt cheek.

The minute I gasped he pulled away, crossing quickly to throw the door open and dart into the hallway.

_Ow_, I thought, rubbing a hand over my poor butt. It didn't so much hurt as it shocked me.

Still, though, I'd have to ask Jasper to rub it later.

* * *

**I can't wait to hear what you guys think. **

**Several notes: first off, a huge thank you as always to my lovely beta Elvelethril. She has a new slashy one-shot up called Afternoon of a Faun, and you should check it out. Scarves have never been so sexy. **

**Also, ydidred won me in the Fandom Gives Back author auction, and she has given me creative freedom so something new should be coming up soon. **

**Lastly, Happy Thanksgiving (to all the Americans. To the rest – don't expect too much from us this week, we'll be stuffed with too much turkey and pie to think.) **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play**

* * *

It's funny, but I think I actually missed the territorial little mutts that usually made my long runs a cacophonous hell. There was this bulldog that would always hear me round the corner onto Division Street, and he would sound out a gruff little baritone alarm to alert all the other dogs on the block. This poor thing would waddle up to the fence so slowly, leaving a trail of drool in its wake, that I'd be long past him by the time he got to the edge of his yard to protect it.

Coach had decided on endurance training for everyone, so we were out on the streets, showing off our sweaty Forks High gym clothes for anyone who cared to watch. Jasper had sped past me long ago, but I would never have tried to keep up with him anyway. My sprint times were still a few seconds too long, even for training purposes, but my knee hadn't really been a problem and that made me optimistic.

I smiled as I passed the yappy beagle. Running was so refreshing; with my feet slapping the pavement and the chilly air drying my sweat against my hairline, I felt like myself again. I inhaled deeply, filtering in the scent of mulch and roses that told me Mrs. Finch and her shi-tzu would be enjoying their mid-afternoon power sit just a few houses up.

As I rounded the next corner I caught sight of the school and, with it, came reminders of everything I needed to do. I was supposed to stop by the guidance counselor's office by the end of the week to tell Mrs. Cope which schools my SAT scores, transcript and letters of recommendation should be sent to. Jasper had already done his, when he'd submitted his early application to Cornell. All the Cullens seemed sure he'd get in, since it was Esme's alma mater, so everyone in the house was in pretty high spirits about the whole college process.

I still wanted to go to Princeton, maybe just because I had always planned on it, but the idea of leaving Ali alone in the same city as Dad's house and maybe even Dad himself made me feel like the world's shittiest brother. I had picked a few local colleges, in Forks, Port Angeles and Seattle, and when Esme had asked about my college choices at dinner, the whole family had been stunned. Esme was visibly flustered, Jas refused to make eye contact, and Carlisle had gone into a fairly diplomatic speech about how I was gifted with intelligence and should take advantage of that when pursuing an undergraduate degree. He pushed the idea of applying to Princeton and Cornell and, when I didn't budge, he even mentioned Stanford as a closer but still-top-tier alternative.

Who knew if I could even get in there? It didn't matter, either way. I needed to be as local as possible – maybe even just take online courses, in case I needed to get a job to convince the state of Washington to give me custody of Alice. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that though. Why couldn't things just stay the way they were? Dad was gone, Alice was happy – well, as happy as she was going to be – at Bella's, and I knew that I didn't have to worry about her there.

Except that, of course, I did. It had been almost two weeks since I'd asked Alice to make some time to talk, and she'd been steadfastly avoiding it ever since. The closer I felt to Jasper, the more there was between us that she didn't know about, the farther I felt from her. And that was wrong. She was my sister, my only true family. We had leaned on each other through the worst times imaginable, and survived them together. I wanted her to know about my life, and how it had changed… for the better.

Things with Jasper really were amazing. Like, mind-boggling. A month ago he was my best friend, and I never thought twice about that, and now he was, well, everything I wanted and more. Thinking back on it, maybe he always was, but now I knew it. When he stepped up behind me to place his lips on my neck, or held my hand under the kitchen table… all I could think was, _Jeez, I'm so happy._ And I tried to show him that, or tell him that. When he'd crawl into my bed after his parents were asleep, I'd whisper how happy I was to have him there, to hold him, to touch him.

I think I had kissed every single part of Jasper not covered by his boxers. We'd curl around each other in bed as we talked and giggled, finding ourselves in new and interesting configurations. I quickly realized that Jas was ticklish. I mean, I always knew that, in theory, but now my hands were frequently in places that made him squirm, and while he'd twist and turn under my touch I'd often kiss whatever skin was in front of me, just because I could. He'd usually retaliate by kissing me back in that exact same place, and I was beginning to worry less and less about being found out. Obviously, I never wanted his parents to find us in a compromising situation again, but when it was just him and me, snuggled into our own personal cocoon of arms and smiles, it was hard to care about anything else.

The past few nights I'd been unable to resist Jas's charms. And by charms I meant just the way he'd stroke just his fingertips along my back, the way he'd whisper how good I felt into my ear, and the way his tautchest felt against mine. In the faint moonlight of the guestroom, I could just make out the whites of his eyes and the plump pout of his lips as they reached to kiss and suckle my skin. We had lost our boxers to the tangled mess of sheets around our ankles several times and groped each other wantonly. I had felt him thrusting with abandon into my hand, and him encircling both our dicks with his large hand, pumping them against each other until I was panting and begging into his ear.

The first time we ventured back into new territory, naked territory, it took me forever to slide my palms from the back of his thighs to what was begging for my attention the most. I could feel it, bobbing against my skin, leaving little lines of pearly wetness in my happy trail. Jas wasn't so hesitant, going straight for the good stuff. When he wrapped his fingers around my member for the first time since, well, the only time, I moaned so loudly he had to kiss me to shut me up. He stroked me without preamble, twisting his palm over the sensitive head until I was quivering and panting into his mouth.

Remembering it now, even though the memory was sexy as all hell, it was embarrassing too. First of all, I'd been as uncertain as a newborn foal. Even when I'd been so close to coming, my fingers were still digging shallow divots into his firm behind. I knew I should reciprocate, but before I got up the nerve my bodily functions had been rendered useless by pleasure.

He had amazing hands. I wanted to build shrines and spend my days in prayer to those hands. "That feels amazing, Jas," I whispered with harsh breaths. "You're so good."

"Practice," he mumbled against my lips.

My second shortcoming of the night was that I completely failed to understand even the most obvious things when he had his hands on me. "You practiced?"  
"Of course," he whispered, pulling away from me slightly to try to make eye contact – a useless gesture in the pitch black room.

I didn't really understand how he could just say that, especially with his hand wrapped around my dick. I knew my brain felt fuzzy, but I really didn't like the idea of him practicing. It bothered me. It put unpleasant images in my head – images that did not include me, and that pissed me off. I mean, I thought this was something we were doing together, figuring out together. "With who? When?"

There was a brief moment in which I was prepared to hate whatever name came out of his mouth. Instead of answering, though, he laughed. First a little snicker, then a full-on laugh. Then he mashed his mouth against mine for a wet, tongue-heavy kiss.

For my part, I refused to be distracted. "Who?" I demanded because, well, apparently I'm a little dense. Especially when all my blood has drained to my dick.

"Who do you think?" I could tell he was smiling from the curve of his lip, which he kept pressed again my own. Even his unashamed boldness didn't clue me in that I was getting worked up over nothing, though, until he said, "You, silly. Well, with myself, picturing you."

That's when I finally got it, and felt like quite the dumbass.

Duh. _Practice_. Of course Jas jacked off in the shower, we all did. I should have known he hadn't been with anyone else. That's when the embarrassment kicked in, and I might have even let my blunder ruin the mood if Jas hadn't continued, still running his fingers across my straining flesh.

"If you're jealous, though, I can picture you fighting with pretend-you for my affections. Mmm," he hummed against my mouth, "two Edwards. Unless it's the washcloth you're angry at."

I wasn't angry at the washcloth, I just wanted to replace it. And there was no need to masturbate in secret anymore, or leave Jas to take care of himself either. I was right there, naked and rubbing myself shamelessly on my incredibly sexy boyfriend, with years of my own practice sessions under my belt. When he pointed out all the _practice_ we had, this didn't seem so intimidating.

Without another word, I brought one hand between us and wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick, sliding them quickly to the tip. That was how I liked it.

Jas's reaction was much stronger than I'd anticipated, I just couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"Oh!" he yelled, but it kind of got stuck in his throat, and his whole body tensed and curled up. "Wait," he pleaded, grabbing at my wrist to still my movement. "Edward, wait. Just a sec."

I did as he asked, giving him a minute to pant and gasp and straighten his body out again. He didn't try to pull out of my grip though.

Finally, I asked, "Are you okay?"

In one swift movement he rolled on top of me, pressing both his hard dick and my hand against my stomach. Trailing his lips to my ear he whispered, "I have been aching for this since your birthday. I refuse to come that quickly."

The weight of him was reassuring, molding over me like a thick comforter, but I remember wanting him even closer, if that was even possible. I bucked up into him, enjoying the slick friction of his body against mine.

He groaned and whispered, "Slowly, please."

So that's what I did. I stroked him slowly, caressing him until I could actually feel the pulse of his need in the base of his cock. He was smooth, and soft. I did all my favorite tricks: trailing my fingers up the underside, only to circle the tip and run them back down the top, twisting my palm around the bulging head, and dipping a finger in the precum to spread it in that most sensitive spot, just below the head.

He was panting most of the time, sometimes groaning and other times digging his fingers into the flesh of my shoulders. Often, both. His grunts became my new favorite sound, and it wasn't long before they merged into one long moan into my ear. Feeling him shake and spasm above me was not only sexy as hell but it made me feel sexy too, and powerful.

Usually I hated getting jizz on me, but when Jasper collapsed against me, squelching the sticky stuff all over my stomach, I just moved my hands up to brush the hair from his sweaty face. He couldn't see the adoring smile on my face, but it was there just for him anyway. He was awfully cute when he had just come – that was something new I learned.

Jas soon caught his breath, and it wasn't long after that that he was silencing the cries of my orgasm with his own mouth.

The next few nights had held much of the same, and I didn't get so embarrassed anymore, now that I understood the rush of making him come, moaning, against my flat stomach.

I really couldn't think about that any more, though, if I wanted to make it back to the gym without cramping. I had to shake those thoughts from my head, because it was uncomfortable to run with all my blood pulsing between my legs instead of through my muscles. That was also something new I'd learned this week.

Sure enough, though, as I trotted up to my locker, which I'd made sure was in the same row as his back when we were both freshmen track-hopefuls, the sight of him tucking his towel around his freshly showered hips ruined any hopes I had of willing my half-stiffy away. I swear, my little guy really was an army cadet, required to salute its commanding officer any time he came into view. And Jasper certainly had command over it…

Jas's skin was sprinkled with opalescent droplets left over from his shower, and with each movement more dripped from the lightly-curled dirty blond hair he'd pushed behind his ears. As he moved to retrieve his clothes I could see the strong, overlaying muscles in his back stretching and rippling. His towel sat low enough that I could see two prominent dimples just above his ass. They seemed to be the perfect size for my fingertips, or my tongue.

Guh, how was I supposed to shower like this?

I opened my locker and pulled out a drink for myself. In my peripheral vision I could see Jas working his long biceps, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel.

I promptly looked away, both condemning and adoring him for being so goddamned sexy. Facing away from him, I stripped my own shirt off and pulled a towel from my locker to wrap around my own hips. My rustling didn't cover the soft sounds of his footsteps though.

Instead of speaking, I felt him press his warm lips against the nape of my neck, leaving a brief, tender kiss. It startled my thrumming senses, and I shivered.

"Mm, salty."

Looking back across my own shoulder, I saw his nose wrinkle up as he tried to smack his lips to get rid of the taste.

I had to giggle. What did he expect? I had been running for nearly an hour. "That's what you get," I said, facing him and crossing my arms smugly.

"That's okay," he whispered conspiratorially, "I like you wet and salty."

I rolled my eyes at his awful pun, or innuendo, or whatever he was trying to do, but refused to think about the implications. We were in a public locker room, for god's sake. Just to match his level of maturity, I stuck my tongue out in distaste and waggled it at him.

Gripping my forearms to pull himself closer, he quickly latched onto my lips and sucked my tongue fully into his mouth. It felt good, but weird, and I gasped. I tried to pull my tongue back, but his teeth scraped along it roughly, leaving it tender and pulsing.

"Owth," I said, covering my mouth with a hand.

If I was looking for repentance, though, I wasn't going to get it.

"I was just trying to steal a kiss," he teased, winking playfully.

I checked over my shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing distance and said, "Not now, Jas."

The line of his mouth hardened, becoming austere almost immediately. "What's wrong with now?"

"I have to shower."

"It was just one kiss."

Didn't he understand? This place was far too open – anyone could pass our row of lockers and see us at any time. Plus, I still had to get naked with these guys.

"No," I said, motioning downwards with a nod. "I have to shower. With them. Like _this_."

His smile returned slightly, but not before he cupped his hands around my jaw and pulled me in for another moist kiss.

"Jasper!" I whined against his mouth.

"Oh go on, Mike's been stiff for like ten minutes anyway. It happens."

Did it? It had never happened to me, and I had no idea if it happened to the other guys because I never looked. But Jasper knew… Jasper looked! And no one had ever said anything about it. Did the rest of them look too?

With a soft pinch to my ass, Jasper sent me on my way, and after a few minutes of thinking about wrinkled old Mrs. Finch and her dumbass shi-tzu I bared all and stepped under the hot spray of the gym showers.

Sure enough, Mike had a little more perk in his penis than the rest of them – excluding me. It was mostly pink, arching forward at a slight angle. I wondered what it would look like fully extended.

Then I realized I really was staring, and quickly pulled my eyes to the floor. Besides, Mike's wasn't the one I was interested in.

Plus, now that I knew a few stray glances wouldn't get me into any trouble, I relished the thought of finally seeing Jasper's in the light.

He didn't try any more hanky panky in the locker room, or on the ride home after we dropped off Bella, but I was still aching for the chance to get him naked once again. That would have to wait until we were in bed, though.

At dinner, Esme was all a-bustle over colleges, rejoicing over how much Jas was going to love Cornell. Now that his app was in, she had been turning most of her helpful-mother energy onto me.

"Edward, aren't your college choices due to the guidance office this week?"

How did she even know that? Jas's were due a month ago. Plus, Rosalie seemed unnecessarily interested in the conversation, which only made me more uncomfortable.

"Umm, yeah. I'll get them in."

"Have you picked any new colleges?"

"Not yet," I said meekly, pushing mashed potatoes around on my plate in sticky little clumps.

A brief and awkward silence descended on the table, but I was saved from another lecture by a knock on the door.

With a subtle but message-laden glance to Carlisle, she folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate before standing up. "I'll get it."

I glanced at Jasper, who was studiously cutting his pork chop, refusing to weigh in on my selection of schools. He'd never mentioned it when we were alone, and I was still hesitant to bring it up, because I was pretty sure he agreed with Carlisle.

I shimmied my foot toward him, trying to let my knee touch his in the hopes that he might look up and I could finally read his expression. I was distracted, though, by Esme's startled greeting.

"Charlie? How are – is everything alright?"

"Hello, Esme," came his gruff voice. "Is Edward here?"

I was on my feet immediately, taking in the sight of Esme looking up at a fully uniformed Chief Swan, hat and nightstick included. In uniform meant on duty – why was Charlie here on duty, wanting to talk to me?

Esme pulled me into her side as soon as I reached her, even though I towered over her.

"Is Alice okay?" I demanded.

He blinked at me. "Course she is. Did something happen?"

Footsteps behinds me alerted me to another person coming to the door, and the heavy hand that clamped onto my shoulder told me it was Carlisle.

"Charlie," he didn't try to hide his concern. "What brings you here on duty?"

"Oh." He patted the badge on his chest almost absently with one hand, while reaching up to remove his hat with the other. "Just got off work. Thought I might have a chat with Edward before I went home."

Esme clapped a hand over her chest in a very feminine, motherly gesture. "You scared us."

He looked a bit bewildered and apologetic as he looked to each of us and behind us, where I saw Jasper was now standing.

"Sorry, Esme, wasn't trying to. Just wanted to talk, is all. Can I come in?"

We all stepped back and he left his hat on the small table by the door. "Didn't mean to catch you at dinner," he mumbled, seeing the abandoned kitchen table to his left. "Jeez, I'm sorry Esme, Carlisle. Kids."

"What can we do for you?" Carlisle asked. "Would you like to join us?" He motioned towards the kitchen.

"No, no, Bella's putting raviolis on the table tonight. Mind if I have a few minutes with Edward, though?"

Esme turned to me, to let me answer, before ushering us over to the living room sofa before heading back to the kitchen. She called out, "False alarm," to an indifferent Rosalie.

Jas lingered, but I waved him off, trying to tell him without words to just eat dinner and that I'd fill him in later.

"Hey Charlie," I said, just to get him talking.

"Hi Edward. How's everything?"

I nodded agreeably. "Fine."

"Heard you're applying to schools now. How's that going?"

Damnit, why were they all keeping track of this? "Fine," I said again. "So… what's up?"

"Oh, uh," he wiped his moustache with his thumb and forefingers before lifting one hip off the couch to pull an envelope out of his back pocket. He didn't open it, or offer it to me, and there was no writing on it to give me any clue as to what it was.

"I stopped by to see you father," he started, "after, you know."

It took me a moment to realize he wanted to talk about my dad, and maybe about what happened with Ali, but I did my best to listen anyway.

"I went over the next morning before work, but he wasn't home. I figure he'd already left by then."

Wow. I knew he'd left quickly, but that quickly? I wondered if he was already packing when I'd come to pick Alice up.

"When he didn't come back I decided to do some checking, and see if I could figure out where he was off to."

"You went in?" Did he have to break? Did Alice give him a key? Did she go with him? I didn't want her back there, even with the Chief of Police.

He grunted softly before answering. "Didn't have to. Just searched for travel tickets in his name."

"And?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Oh. Yeah, his car was gone."

"Still is. I went back later to check. But I didn't see much mail there either."

Mail? I hadn't even thought about the mail.

"Edward."

My eyes snapped up to his.

"Has your dad ever been gone this long before?"

"No. Of course not. He usually…Even when I was staying at the Cullens, I had to check in every few days."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at me, but instead of the lazy-Sunday fishing Charlie, this was the eyebrow of Police Chief Swan. "Had to? Did he set up a schedule for you?"

By this time I was twisting my hands in my lap, and I dropped my head to stare at them. "No," I mumbled reluctantly.

"Did he ever ask you to come home? Or call?"

I had to think about that. Didn't he ask, at least once…? "No."

"But he's never gone away before, either?"

I shook my head.

Finally, he began opening the letter in his hand, saying, "I checked on your mail, Edward, and your dad left a forwarding address."

"A forwarding address? Why would he—"

"He's not coming back, I don't think. At least, not for a while."

Oh my god. Dad moved away, without us. He really had left us. I mean, I knew he had. I wanted him to, I didn't ever want him to come back after… after whatever he did to Alice. But. He just left.

At least with Mom we knew it was coming. At least with her, we said our final goodbyes. Dad may not have been all that attentive, but at least he was there. He was still our dad. Now, he was just some guy who skipped town. Nothing severs all ties like leaving behind a dark house with rotten fruit in it.

"Did you find anything else?" I asked with a wavering voice.

"Sorry, son. I'm still lookin', though."

Jesus. We really, truly, had been abandoned. I squinched my eyes shut, trying to absorb this new information. The worst part was, I already knew this. I don't know why it came as such a shock. I should be glad.

Except – this made it official. Alice was parentless.

My palms were sweaty, and I tried to wipe them off on my jeans. I looked up through squinted eyes to ask, "Does Alice know?"

He shook his head, wiping down his moustache again. "Naw. I thought you might remember more. I want you to tell me if you recognize this address."

He handed me the unfolded piece of paper, and I reluctantly looked it over. It was someplace in Phoenix, but not anywhere I recognized, so I shook my head.

"The house is registered to the Neilsons."

Oh. That name, it sounded familiar. Oh!

"They smelled like cats. Dad played poker with Mr. Neilson."

"Uh-huh."

"And Mom didn't like his wife, much, I don't think."

"How come?"

"She," I tried to remember. "She was always doing weird stuff. She talked to the cats too much, and dressed them up. Mom said she wasn't quite right."

"But Mr. Neilson, he was a friend of your dad's?" Charlie prompted, and I nodded.

He slapped his hands on his knees like we'd just come to some sort of agreement. "Alright, then."

"Wait. What does that mean?" I asked, suddenly panicked and sitting up straight.

"Well, technically it means I've got to notify the state."

Everything in my head slowed with my weary heart beat – _notify the state – _before it sped up again. No. No no no.

I was on my feet instantly, staring down at the closest thing Alice had to a father figure in disbelief. "Charlie, you can't. That – you just can't. I, I have to get custody. I need time."

"Woah, woah there." He held out his palms in an inoffensive pose. "Slow down, Edward."

"I can't slow down!" The words rushed from me like ice from a glass – in uneven and noisy spurts. "I've got to get a job, or something. I need to get custody, Charlie, I need to be proven fit! I need time, just a little time."

"Edward," he said, standing up. I'd never realized how tall Charlie Swan was before. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You're not the only one who cares about Alice. I'm not going to just send her off."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Well," he said pointedly, "that's what you and I are going to discuss."

Oh. Okay, I could do that.

I took a deep breath, and felt the spread of oxygen into my lungs and throughout my tense muscles like a balm. The thought of having a say – hopefully an equal say – in Ali's future was a great relief. When Charlie motioned to the sofa beside us, we both sat again.

"You got a little worked up there," he said, clearly trying to make light of it. I wasn't quite ready for this all to be light, though.

"I've been worried about this for a while. When it comes to Ali, I get very—"

"Over-protective?"

I blinked. _Over_-protective? How about vigilant? How about just fulfilling my brotherly duties? I was apparently her only family member that gave a shit, and that meant I had to care enough for everyone.

"Understandably protective?"

He nodded sympathetically. "So, you want to apply for Alice's guardianship?"

"Absolutely."

He was watching me carefully. "And what does Alice think of that?"

Oh. "Well, she hasn't exactly wanted to talk about any of that."

He nodded again, and I think I almost saw a twinge of a smile on his face. "Your little sister sure is a spitfire, you know that?"

Well, obviously.

"Can't get her to sit for two minutes whenever I bring your father up."

"Yeah…" I suppressed the urge to make excuses for her, even though I had the same trouble with her that Charlie did.

In a perfect world, Alice and Charlie and I would sit down and talk about what everyone thought would be best, and what would keep her life as stable and happy as possible. I had long since given up looking for that alternate reality, though, so Charlie and I would have discuss everything alone, at least for now.

He asked me in a very official tone why I thought I would make a good guardian for Alice. I pretty much thought that being her loving brother was enough, but he wanted to go through the particulars: money, housing, education. That's where the bank account my mom opened for us and the idea of a part time job came in.

Of course, if I wanted to keep Dad from ever getting close to Alice I needed physical custody, not just the legal right to make decisions on her behalf. When Charlie inferred that the state would probably never give me custody if we didn't live together, I pointed out that Dad clearly wasn't coming back, so we could move back into our old house.

I really didn't want to, but I would if I had to.

Charlie looked very serious through all of this, but when I mentioned living in Dad's house his brows furrowed even more. He brought up the issue of bills: electricity, water – and what about the mortgage? he said.

Those questions threw me off guard. Dad had a mortgage? I didn't know I had to think about that. Even with a part time job – hell, even if I got a full time job, that and the money Mom put aside for us still wouldn't be enough to pay for a mortgage. Not that I even knew how much that was. It just seemed like… a lot.

The more we talked, the worse I felt. Charlie made it pretty clear that he didn't think I'd be awarded custody. I depended on the Cullens for room and board, and on Charlie to give Alice the same. There was also the issue of my age and, apparently, the state of Washington was also leaning away from awarding family members guardianship lately.

All in all, the conversation was fairly discouraging. Though he tried to be kind about it, Charlie was about as subtle as his nightstick, and it was clear that he didn't have much hope that the state would award me custody.

There were so many facts to know and things to consider that my head was swimming. I didn't know what else I could do. How could I get enough money for a mortgage? How could I convince a judge to let me, at barely-eighteen, be entirely responsible for a fourteen year old girl that would hardly even speak to me?

It was about that time that Esme came out with two glasses of water.

"You boys have been at it for quite a while. Charlie, isn't Bella expecting you home?"

He patted his little bulge of a stomach, probably at the thought of dinner at home, and turned towards her. "Sure is. Edward and I were just talking about his father."

Esme smiled politely, her eyes flickering between the two of us, and I got the impression she'd heard more than she was saying. "Well, it seems to me that you and Ed Senior have had a standing informal agreement for quite some time. Does there have to be a decision made tonight?"

Informal, indeed. More like unspoken. Regardless, Esme spoke with an air of maternal authority that seemed to reach Charlie in a way I couldn't. His cop-demeanor faded, only to be replaced with the quiet and bashful local bachelor Charlie was when he was off-duty.

"Guess not, Esme. Guess not."

"Good. Would you mind taking just one more minute before you head out, Charlie?" She motioned to the stairs behind her, up to the office.

He nodded and hoisted himself up off the couch, while Esme told me there was a warm plate still in the oven for me.

Dinner seemed to be completely over, with the whole table cleared. Jas was sitting there with his homework, though, obviously waiting for me.

I pulled a free chair flush against his and dropped into it, letting my head roll onto his shoulder.

"That didn't sound fun," he said softly, setting down his homework and pulling his fingers through my uncooperative hair.

"You heard that?"

"Most of it, yeah. Everyone else left after you freaked out."

"Apparently, I do that." I was so mentally exhausted, I couldn't really bring myself to care what they had heard, or how I sounded, or even what Esme was saying to Charlie in her office. Actually, I was glad Jas had heard our conversation, because I wouldn't have to repeat it all for him. Only one thing really mattered.

"Charlie doesn't think I'm good enough."

He exerted a little more pressure against my scalp. "That's not what he said."

"May as well have," I sighed, rolling my head further against his shoulder and enjoying the warmth of his skin and his breath in my hair.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Want to watch lame TV?"

Leave it to Jas to read my mood exactly. I knew I had a lot to figure out and, now more than ever, I really needed to talk with Alice. But, as Esme'd said, it didn't have to be done tonight.

"You know," I said, moving to smile up at him. "That's exactly what I want to do."

When Jas crawled into my bed later that night, spooning me like I knew he would, I was feeling much better. A few episodes of Family Guy had worked wonders, keeping me happily distracted – even with an open door – for most of the night.

Jas pulled his fingers through my hair some more, arranging my locks into little twists and then tucking them behind my ear before they would unravel themselves.

In the quiet, my mind drifted back to everything Charlie had said. It was hard to really understand what it would take for my dad change his address. It was also hard to know how to proceed without talking to Alice. Her avoidance was really starting to take its toll on me. I thought about it all the time – all the things I wanted to say to her, what could possibly be going through her head, what had really happened to make her so avoidant in the first place. Even when I was doing homework, or writing my damn college essay, my mind kept going back to my baby sister.

"You sleepy?" Jas whispered.

"Naw."

"You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking about stuff."

After a brief pause, in which I think Jas was trying to find his words, he asked, "Did you want him to come back? You seemed kinda shocked."

Of course I didn't want him to come back. Now that I knew he wouldn't, though, I didn't exactly want him gone either. Finally, I organized my conflicting thoughts into one coherent sentence.

"There's a difference between being a shitty father and abandoning your kids. I mean, how fucked up is that? Plus, now that he's officially gone, Ali can't just stay at Bella's. It's about to get all legal and complicated." I was getting kind of worked up, gesticulating to the open air in front of me while I got all my thoughts out. "And Ali's all bitchy and unhelpful and I just feel so fucking incompetent. Charlie knocked down all my plans for how to take care of her, and I just don't know what to do."

I took a deep breath once that spurt of emotions was out, and felt better for having shared them.

Jas continued to play with my hair while he thought about his answer. "Look, I don't really know what to do about Alice. And I wish your dad had gotten his shit together years ago. Really, I _don't know_ who does that. But I gotta tell you, I'm kind of glad he's gone. I don't miss worrying about you."

Wordlessly, I flipped over in place until I was pressed up again his bare chest. I did my best to look him in the eyes, but it was too dark to see his expression. "You don't have to worry about me, Jas."

"But I did anyway. You and Alice." He wrapped one arm over my back, so he could pull me flush against him. He smelled fantastic – like Old Spice and lavender soap. Tentatively, he slipped one hand between us to pull my right hand up to his mouth. His lips quickly found the scar there, and smoothed it over with a kiss. "Now I know you're safe, here."

Here, with him. The Cullen's house had always been a place of refuge, even back when Dad had first lashed out at Ali. The thought of that night reminded me how grateful I was that my dad wasn't around, and that Jas was.

Once I'd gotten Alice away from my father's glass-flinging fury and safely into Charlie's care, I'd gone back home to clean up the shattered figurine from the carpet.

Dad still seemed to be itching to yell, because as soon as I set to work he was hulking over me, trying to pull me up from the floor and insisting that my sister should clean up her goddamned mess. I thought, maybe, that he would feel better once Mom's prized Pegasus and other figures were cleaned up and out of sight, so I continued pushing small pieces into a chipped dust pan. Dad, though, would have none of it, and tried to pull me up by the collar. Instead, he just toppled my balance, forcing me to catch myself in the shattered glass, with a tip of an angel's wing lodged solidly in the heel of my palm.

The glass was deep, but clear, and when I finally pushed myself up and looked, I could almost see the flesh inside my palm through its refractive surface. It stung, and I could feel my hand start to throb. Blood was starting to well up past the chunk, and I was afraid to pull the glass out. Only averting my eyes and a set of deep breaths kept me upright.

I darted for the bathroom, where I ran tap water over my hand before dislodging the glass. The water ran red, and then pink, but never went clear. I tried patting it dry to put a band aid on, but it was soaked within a minute so instead, I went into my room to grab a clean sock and wrapped it tightly around my hand.

The only idea that came to mind was calling Jasper. I hadn't really known him that long, then, but I knew we had fun in PE together, and that his dad was a doctor.

He greeted me cheerfully but when I asked him if his parents could come get me, he sounded panicked.

"What's the matter? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I…" I didn't know how to say it. "I keep bleeding. I thought maybe your dad could…"

He quickly got Carlisle on the phone, who asked me the whens and wheres of it all and promised that they were on their way. I avoided passing Dad's bedroom by climbing out my own window, and waited on the front lawn for the Cullens.

Esme was out of the car first, pulling me into one of her patented maternal hugs. Then Carlisle asked to see my hand, which apparently needed stitches, and quickly guided me toward the car. In the back seat, Jasper and I leaned into the middle to whisper quietly. Instead of asking me questions I didn't want to answer, he told me about all the nurses at the hospital and which ones were nice and which ones smelled funny.

In the end, Carlisle stitched me up himself and threw out the bloody sock. It sure was a lot of blood for four stitches.

The whole afternoon went in a sort of blur. From one panicked thought to another, I had been in damage-control mode. When we got back to the hospital parking lot, though, the adrenaline had worn off and the pain killer hadn't kicked in yet and I suddenly felt reluctant to get back in the car. I still had glass to clean up at home, but there was no chance my dad had sobered up yet. He'd probably be angry at me for bleeding on the rug, too.

That idea made me flustered and nauseous.

I didn't know how observant Jasper was, then, but I would soon learn. I was standing in the hospital parking lot trying to figure out how to appease my dad and silently hide my anxiety when Jasper stepped in front of me. He was slightly shorter than me then, but still stood out in a crowd, and his hair had already grown into the loose dirty-blond waves that he always pushed behind his ears.

In a gesture that I later realized was the purest form of Jasper's kindness, he put one hand on my shoulder and said the one sentence that had started this beautiful friendship in the first place.

"You know, Edward, you don't have to go home if you don't want to."

So I didn't. The Cullens took me home with them, instead, and fed me dinner. We made s'mores over their gas stove and watched The Simpsons until it was time for bed. Esme made up the guest bed for me, but their house was so large that I felt exposed, and alone. I ended up dragging my comforter into Jas's room and sleeping in a little pile on the floor and he, being the understanding guy he is just whispered, "Sleep tight, Edward."

It's weird to think that in the midst of all the family turmoil and misery that started that day, something wonderful was born. The boy currently tangling his legs with mine – this boy that smelled like summer break, with skin like a secret rendezvous and who kissed like the entire world had been whittled down to our tiny existences… That was the first day I saw this boy as more than just a PE buddy.

Now, Jas seemed to know what I was mulling over, because he didn't move his lips from my palm.

Eventually, whatever moonlight there was became obscured by the clouds, and it was impossible to see anything. I slid my hand across his cheek to the back of his neck, where I could play with the tiny tendrils of blond hair. "I'm glad you were there, that day," I said into the still, quiet room.

"At least something good came of it?" he offered.

Eh. I didn't want to feel like my dad was responsible for bringing us together. I didn't want to have to be grateful to something as heinous as my dad's drunken temper. "I dunno, Jas. I'm sure we would have become friends eventually. We would have met on the track team, if nothing else."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Come on," I said, patting his chest with my free hand to get his agreement. "It's you and me. How could we not be friends?"

"Of course we're friends," he said noncommittally. The disinterested way he said friends, though, tipped me off to his reluctance.

"And once we were friends," I said in a low voice, attempting to be seductive, "this was pretty much inevitable." With both my arms and my legs, I pulled myself tightly against him. Our knees knocked, our noses bumped, and a few other protruding parts brushed tantalizingly across each other too.

When Jas answered, his voice was deep and gravelly, but still showed his excitement. "Yeah? Inevitable?"

As my first answer, I skimmed my lips against his, reveling in the soft warmth he provided. Only when he was good and kissed did I pullback with a contented sigh and say, "This feels too good to think we might have missed it." I obviously wasn't here just because my father was an asshole. I was here because… "We feel right together, Jas. You and me. Once we were friends, how could we not be more?"

"How could we not?" he agreed, in a much brighter tone. He trailed his nose along my ear and my exposed throat, exciting sensitive nerve-endings in the process. "I'm so glad you think that, Edward," he breathed into my ear. "You have no idea."

I didn't believe in fate, or anything like that, but I did think that once Jas and I knew each other, everything else was just a matter of time. Even if it had taken us for-fricken-ever. We really had just fallen into the most alluring, exciting, and gratifying way we could be together.

The thing about that, though, is that there's only two ways to fall: from grace, or in love. Both ideas scared me completely, but only one sent tingles through my chest, constricting and inflating my heart in a way that was foreign, but wondrous.

Jas continued nuzzling and humming against my bare skin, and I was happy to have made him so happy. If possible, we pressed even closer to each other, both physically and emotionally. For the rest of the night, our sweet-nothings were exchanged with more than just words.

In the morning I woke alone, like I was supposed to, and laid under the warm covers of the guest bed for several minutes. My thoughts drifted to all the facets of my life that had led to the intricacies of my relationship with Jasper. Why him?

Of course, I knew all the reasons I was completely enamored by him. He was kind and sensitive, accepting and smart and silly. He let me stew when I wanted to, and rant when I needed it. He made me feel normal and lucky all at the same time. I couldn't pinpoint why I liked him as a man, though. There was no denying that the pressure of his firm chest against mine had me panting, and that the thought of running my palms over the curve of his bicep or the swell of his ass sent a rush of warmth down my stomach and through my groin. But, wasn't I supposed to like women? I mean, they're supposed to be soft, and comforting, apparently.

But who wanted soft when you could have hard? And sexy?

I didn't think I did, I never had before, but there didn't seem to be anything in my past that would steer me towards men, as opposed to women. That thought just confirmed what I'd said the night before; I always would have liked Jas, even without my prick of a father.

Hell, maybe we would have even figured this all out a lot sooner. Maybe with my mom to talk to, to encourage and support me regardless of my preference, like I knew she would have, maybe we could have been dating for a while already. Maybe we could have actually gone on real dates, or had our first kiss without me crying on my bedroom floor.

Thinking of how things might have been sent a shard of painful longing through me. If only…

I wanted to tell my mom about Jasper. I hadn't really _talked_ to her since I was first confused over my new feelings for Jasper, and her picture was still locked away in my dad's house. Part of me wanted to go get it, but the other part didn't want to sever her memory from the few warm memories I had of her in that house.

My familial isolation just steeled my conviction to talk to Ali about, well, pretty much everything. Dad, the house, custody rights, and Jasper. I wanted to fill her in, I wanted to hear her say that it was all okay, and I wanted to be the inseparable brother/sister pair we used to be.

None of that could happen if we didn't find some way to communicate.

Eventually, after a particularly cat-like stretch, I pulled on my clothes and tiptoed to Jasper's room, already wanting to see him again. I hadn't brushed my teeth yet, so I was just planning on giving him a heartfelt kiss on the cheek, but he bypassed any personal hygiene concerns by sticking his already minty-fresh tongue in my mouth and humming happily. When we heard Esme coming down the hall, I rearranged my jeans and walked back to my room.

Esme raised a disapproving eyebrow in the hallway, and I did my best to look innocent.

After all, we'd followed the rules and left the door open.

About halfway through the ride to school, Ali said the first thing in weeks that I was actually glad to hear from her. Apparently, Mrs. Clearwater wouldn't be able to take her home, and she'd need to find another ride.

I saw my chance, and took it. "I'll just take you home with Bella, like we used to do."

It seemed straightforward enough to me, but she still hedged.

"Hmm. I guess. Seth said maybe I should find a ride with one on the other techies."

"Why?" I asked, irate. "I used to take you home all the time." And Seth knew that. Why wouldn't he want me to drive her? Honestly, what the fuck was his problem?

"Oh, just so I didn't have to leave early."

"We'll wait," I promised, not believing that excuse for one minute. This was an opportunity, and there was no way I was going to miss it.

Tonight, Ali and I were finally going to talk.

* * *

**Reviews convince Alice to sit down and listen.  
**

**Also, I always told myself I wouldn't do this, but a little shameless self promotion: my one-shot, Power, has been selected as a Judge's Pick for the final round of the Slash Backslash contest. (Which is SO exciting, I can't even express it properly.) My fabulously talented beta, Elvelethril, has a great story in the finals too. If you're looking for the slashfic mecca, head on over to the contest, and vote for your favorites.**

**Plus, Elvelethril is posting her new fic, Punks, today and you should all check it out.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.

* * *

**

_This was an opportunity, and there was no way I was going to miss it._

_Tonight, Ali and I were finally going to talk._

* * *

The day dragged on like the rain in Forks filters through pine trees – way too slowly. At least in History I had the tangles of Jasper's dirty-blond tendrilly hair to distract me, but in English it was only the haphazard doodles someone had left in my copy of Julius Caesar. By Physics it was only the bouncing of my knee, even though Mike had told me to cut it out more than once. When nothing else could distract me, I stared at the tick of the big hand on each of the Quileute Country School District standard-issue clocks. I'm sure they slowed down whenever I was looking, but that didn't help me find something else to focus on.

Lunch was actually vaguely interesting, and by that I mean distracting. Tyler was spazzing out over an upcoming biology project, while simultaneously trying to complete the homework he had due after lunch. He had spread his papers out across the table, insinuating them between everyone's sandwiches and apples and drinks and crackers.

"Jasper, man, what's the answer to number four?"

"The square root of pi," he replied casually, not even bothering to check which class the homework was for.

I chuckled, but Tyler huffed. "No, seriously. Please? I just don't get it. Do you think genetics will be part of the project?"

"Fine." Setting his sandwich down on the brown paper bag Esme had packed it in, Jas reached across the table for the list of questions I knew he had already finished. "Oh yeah, that one was tricky. It's a female to male backcross."

"Great, man. Thanks. Do you have a partner for the Final Project yet?"

"Nope," he said, picking up his sandwich again.

Tyler seemed genuinely relieved by this news. "Thank god. I was afraid I'd end up with Lauren or something, and she really sucks at bio."

Wow, talk about a pot and kettle situation. Since I was sitting directly across from Tyler I couldn't roll my eyes like I wanted to but Mike did it for me. From his spot beside Tyler, he was free to make whatever disparaging expressions he wanted, and I flashed a grin back.

Tyler was going on about how great it would be when they worked together, and it didn't escape my notice that he hadn't actually asked Jas to be his partner. Jas noticed too, I was sure, but he just munched on his sandwich and nodded along.

He would probably be fine working with Tyler – the project wasn't that hard. Besides, if Tyler really couldn't pull his weight, Jasper could look at my notes from last year since I was a year ahead in science.

I gave his knee an encouraging pat under the table, only moving from the wrist down so that no one would notice.

At one point I saw Ali and Bella without Seth hovering around, but they were heading away from our table and I didn't want to approach Ali until we had more time.

I was planning on turning in my college stuff to Mrs. Cope, since she only had walk-in hours during lunch. I had it out on the table, to remind me, but Mike and I were having too much fun silently making fun of Tyler that I lost track of time until the bell rang. I knew if I ran I could probably still make it to her office and back in the passing period, but Jasper suggested somewhat gruffly that I wait until tomorrow, so I let it go for today.

After school I threw myself into training, which pleased the coach. I didn't see Leah around anywhere, and it occurred to me that maybe all the Clearwaters were MIA today. I shook that thought off and focused on my sprints to keep myself distracted but, as always, running only provided a better opportunity for obsessive thoughts and self reflection. There were so many things I wanted to talk to Alice about, but my conversation with Charlie had bumped new priorities to the top of the list.

Alice might be pissed at me, but if I had any hope of winning custody I figured she would have to testify to what a capable and attentive caretaker I was. She needed to be prepared for whatever was about to happen. Plus, other than the logistical errors in Charlie and I planning this alone, Alice would be pissed if she knew we were deciding her future without her.

Dad's whereabouts and how we should proceed was now number one on my list of Things to Discuss with Ali.

When we all piled into my car, though, Alice was quieter than usual. I mean, she usually ignored me these days, but she had hardly said two words to Bella either, who was equally somber, and I began to wonder if there was something going on with Seth. I couldn't imagine he would willfully give up the opportunity to keep Alice from me.

"How come Seth's mom can't take you home today?" I asked of Ali's reflection in the rearview mirror, as diplomatically as I could.

Without looking up she mumbled, "Visiting their dad."

That was odd. I had never heard anything about Mr. Clearwater, but it was still a shock to learn he didn't live with his wife and kids. Or was it ex-wife and kids? "Where does he live?"

Ali's face shifted into something pained, and reminiscent of when we'd moved here, but said nothing. After a long beat of silence, Bella finally spoke for her.

"Harry Clearwater died of a heart attack last year," she said softly.

…Holy crap. I'd had no idea.

Jasper turned around in his seat and voiced what we were both thinking. "That's awful."

Bella nodded, while Ali did nothing.

It was awful. Losing a parent was the most devastating, hopeless feeling I knew of, and I wouldn't wish that kind of anguish on anyone, not even that dickwad, Seth. Ali looked up and I caught her eye in the mirror.

"I'm really sorry," I said earnestly. "What an awful day." The first anniversary of Mom's death had been the hardest for me, and I figured it would be equally difficult for the Clearwaters. My heart went out to Seth, for just a moment, as I thought about how glad I was he had someone like Ali in his life, someone who understood. Then I realized that Ali was equally lucky, even though it had been almost four years since our mom had died.

But then I realized that since he had Ali in his life, I no longer did, and he was back on my shit list again.

When I pulled up to the Swan house Alice slid out of the car without a word, and Bella followed close behind. I jumped out of the driver's seat quickly, but left the keys in the ignition.

Jasper, being his usual quick-on-the-uptake self, opened his door and called out, "Hey Bella, how do you feel about ice cream?"

She looked confused as she glanced warily from Jas to me to Alice, who had also turned around to watch us, but Bella eventually decided to get back in the car with Jasper. He held the passenger door open for her like a gentlemen and she thanked him, even though her eyes were on me, probably wondering what I was up to.

Alice, of course, realized this was a set up and was already in a foul mood over being trapped in a house with me. And we weren't even in the damn house yet.

"Leave me alone," she yelled, sounding like a looping tape of herself, and every other pissed off teenage girl I'd seen in movies. She slammed the front door behind her, but didn't lock it, so I followed her in.

"Ali," I said quietly, beseechingly, and maybe even a little patronizingly. "Just ten minutes."

She spun on her heel at the bottom of the stairs, arms instantly crossed. "Two."

"Five," I bargained. She rolled her eyes but didn't argue, so I took that as a concession. "Can we sit?"

"I'd rather stand."

Obviously, I was going to have to fight her every step of the way. "Ali, I just want five minutes of real conversation, okay? You owe me at least that."

She abandoned the conversation in an instant, stomping up the stairs and only pausing as an afterthought to throw me a glare. I guess that was the wrong thing to say.

Determined and, if I'm honest, a little sick of her bullshit, I followed her up.

Bella's room wasn't nearly as big as Jasper's, and they didn't have a guest room, but Charlie had wheeled in a sturdy looking cot with enough thick padding and blankets to look reasonably comfortable. Last time I'd checked Alice slept in a sleeping bag – she'd said it made staying at Bella's feel like a perpetual sleepover – but I guess that had changed.

She was sitting at Bella's desk, trying to pretend she gave a shit about anything other than ignoring me just for the sake of it. I pulled the second chair up to the desk, trying to formulate some words that would get her to talk back. As much as I wanted to combat her angry demeanor, I knew that the Masen temper in her genes was an even match for mine. And that wasn't why I came over, anyway. I wanted to talk, to understand… once we understood each other, we wouldn't have to fight or avoid each other anymore... I hoped.

The longer I sat there, trying curb my anger at being treated so disposably and unable to think of the right thing to say, the more uncomfortably warm I got. I watched Ali's argumentative profile, devising and discarding possible ice-breakers in my mind until I was starting to sweat under my collar and pulled at it.

Alice glanced at the motion when I did, and ground out, "I don't owe you anything."

This time, I was eager to agree. "No, Ali, I know. You don't. I just… I really need to talk some stuff over with you." I saw her grind her teeth more forcefully so I amended, "About next year."

She finally made eye contact. "What about it?"

"Well, I'm graduating."

"Yeah? So?"

"Well," I stalled, not knowing how to say it. "Look, don't get mad, but did Charlie tell you about Dad?"

"He'll come back eventually," she whispered to where she was picking at her hands in her lap. Her tone was clipped, but hard to decipher. Even though it seemed like it should be obvious, I couldn't tell if she welcomed or rued his return. She didn't say anything else, though.

This quiet version of Alice was a different kind of opponent, and I decided on a new approach. "Ali," I said softly, leaning my elbows on my knees to whisper in closer to her. "What do you want to happen now?"

She didn't say anything, or even look up, but she began slowly shaking her head. I waited out her silence and eventually she said, "I don't want anything to happen. I don't want anything to change."

I sighed. I would move the earth for her – or spend my life trying, anyway. I was willing to give up college for her. Anything she wanted, I would gladly give her, if I could hold on to what was left of my family. But she had to go and ask for the impossible.

Things were going to change, and neither of us had a choice.

"Ali, you're still a minor. The judge will have to appoint a legal guardian for you—"

Her head snapped up, and I could see the infamous Masen temper back in the line of her brow and her artificially-amber eyes. "Judge? Who called a damn judge?"

Damnit. I thought Charlie would have told her the whole story. Now she was going to be pissy and on edge while I had to explain everything. Then again, it's not like she wasn't already a nightmare to talk to before. If she stormed away at the mere mention of Dad, like she usually did with me, I could see how Charlie wouldn't have a chance to break all the news to her.

Still, that left it up to me. And that sucked. I opened my mouth to explain, but she was already out of her chair, flailing and ranting.

"Why couldn't you just leave things the way they are, Edward?" She was eyeing me like someone eyes a corner that they just stubbed their toe on – like even though it wouldn't do any good, they might want to kick back at it, just for closure. "You always have to meddle!"

Alice was quickly in full-on tantrum mode, calling out demands for me to 'stop ruining things' and stomping her foot. Her too-long sleeves had slipped over her hands, even as she fisted them against her hips, but I could see her forefinger picking at the cuticles of the same hand in a blatantly nervous gesture. If anything, her little fit reminded me how young she was, and I suddenly felt like an aged, overburdened old man.

My back felt stiff and my head felt heavy as I called out her name to get her attention. "I didn't do anything, okay?" The last thing I needed was for her to hate me for things I didn't even do. "Charlie's a cop," I pointed out, hoping to impart some kind of reality check. "Now that Dad's officially gone, he has to be reported."

"For what?" she bit out, acting like parents left their children behind all the time and there was no point to lift a finger about it.

I couldn't believe she was serious – that she really wanted to go there. "Abandonment." For starters.

She rolled her eyes. "We both know he'll be back."

Jesus, she really was ready to go there. "How about neglect?"

She didn't waver at all. Apparently, that was still what she'd call a 'no biggy' so I had no choice but to pull out my trump card, the lowest blow of them all. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, prepping myself for the turn this conversation was about to take.

Though Ali's testimony would probably simplify and expedite the hearing, a charge of neglect would probably be enough to revoke my dad's custody. Or, even if it wasn't, all I had to do was testify to all the drunken rages and glass-flinging I'd witnessed when I was younger and the judge would get Alice as far away from Dad as he could.

But Ali had to know it would come up.

When I opened my eyes, I fixed them directly on hers and, in the clearest voice I could muster, suggested, "Abuse."

Her eyes narrowed and her fists tightened and I knew she was about to blow up. Just like she always did.

"Damnit, Edward!" She turned away from me, pacing across an arbitrarily small patch of floor. "Why can't you just shut up about it already?"

I stepped back from her, huffing a little and narrowing my eyes right back, because I really kind of resented that. "I'm not trying to talk about it!" I hadn't said a word in fucking weeks.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms like a bratty teenager. "Oh, please. You've been waiting to get me alone for weeks just so I would admit he hit me."

Her words were like a physical illness that flashed over me. My chest clenched and my stomach dropped. Any trace of anger evaporated, like water off a hot sidewalk, leaving not a trace. I knew he had hit her – I was pretty sure – but that was the closest she had ever come to admitting it.

"So he did?" I asked in strained whisper.

"No! I never said that." she yelled from mere feet away, still balling her fists at her sides. Her eyes got shiny and I could see her contacts slipping across her irises more than they were supposed to, so I knew she was genuinely upset. I knew she was lying.

I wanted to say so many things in that moment. I wanted to beg her to tell me truth, and let her know it was okay to cry. I wanted to promise I would never let that asshole near her again. I wanted to defend myself and tell her the real reason I'd been aching for a chance to talk with her.

I didn't say any of that though. I didn't want to talk about Dad and risk making her any more combatant or avoidant than she already was. And I really didn't want to tell her about me and Jasper while she was still pissed. Instead, I tried to focus on the issues at hand, so that we could smooth this over and get back to the not-yelling-at-me portion of the evening as fast as we could.

"You need a new guardian," I reiterated. "And I'm supposed to apply to colleges soon."

She was wiping a tear away with the back of one knuckle, but leaning away like I wouldn't notice what she was doing. When she turned back to me, she asked, "What does that have to do with anything? I thought you were set on Princeton."

I shook my head, shoving my bangs from my face when they fell into my vision. "No. I don't have to go," I said, eagerly trying to make my point. To make my offer. "I'll stay here, Ali, with you."

"Didn't you already apply?"

She was getting all my car-ride conversations with Jasper mixed up, and I wanted to make it clear for her. "No, only Jasper's applying early. He's leaving, but I'm not."

As she paused a moment to think over that, I did too.

_He's leaving, but I'm not._

I don't know why it never clicked before but, in that moment, I realized exactly what I was saying. Jas was leaving. His early application to Cornell was contractual, and he would definitely get in. He would be leaving for college next fall. _But I'm not…_

_Holy shit. _

I felt like I had been juggling a separate life on each hand, but when I tried to hold them in the same space they clashed in mid-air and came crashing to the ground. My daily life was a mess. It focused on a father who left me and a sister who refused to talk to me and the countless responsibilities that fell on my shoulders because of all that. It was upsetting and discouraging and anxiety-provoking. But my nightly life was… Jasper. It was heated kisses and soft caresses and whispered laughter. Sure, I talked to him about all my worries and concerns, but they were still external to our time together. It was idyllic, and I never let any of the anxious clutter from the rest of my life in, because being with Jasper was a safe haven, not to be sullied.

He was the one constant thing in my life, from even before we were dating. When I talked to him about getting custody of Ali, it had never really clicked that staying behind meant losing him in return.

I was willing to do whatever it took to help Ali but, with that revelation, it became clear that I hadn't really looked at the reality of the situation. What else had I overlooked? And had Jas already thought of this – if so, why hadn't he said anything?

Several instances came to mind – not in which he'd said something, but in which he'd specifically not said anything, like when he refused to make eye contact the last time Esme asked me about my college choices.

Until today, that is, when we were nearly to the first deadline… and he asked me to wait.

This reality crept thickly through my limbs as the anxiety I always carried but tried to subdue overwhelmed me. What if Jas thought I wanted to leave him next year? Worse, I actually was planning on leaving him next year. But… inadvertently!

I felt frazzled and incompetent and like a shitty boyfriend or, hell, even a shitty best friend. I wanted to call him, I wanted to go to him and ask him how to make this all work, because I wanted to make this work. I was so completely in over my head here, and for the first time I started to think that maybe I couldn't do this all on my own.

My panic was starting to feel constricting, and tugging on my collar was no longer enough. I quickly unzipped my thick jacket and flung it across the chair behind me.

I didn't want Jas to go without me, but I couldn't just leave Ali behind. I couldn't abandon her, like Dad did. I hated the thought that I might have to choose between them, but I knew that my obligation to Alice came first. Even if I had to ask for help to do it, I should be here for her, if she wanted me to.

It occurred to me, belatedly, that Alice was watching me with an annoyed and expectant look.

"Huh?" I asked, still sort of unfocused.

"Why are you even thinking of staying here?"

"To get custody of you," I answered, sort of on auto-pilot.

That was apparently another wrong-thing-to-say.

"What? Why can't I stay here with Charlie and Bella?"

I didn't know if Charlie would be a suitable guardian, seeing as how he was a single father with a dangerous profession. But, then again, I guess an inexperienced eighteen year old brother didn't sound much better. I still felt like I had to try, though.

"You can still see them," I promised. "I know you're mad at me for… stuff, but can't we try to keep the Masen family together?" What's left of it, anyway.

She dropped her arms and quickly focused her eyes on her fidgeting hands as she shook her head. "I don't want to be a Masen."

I was slightly taken aback, and hurt and shocked, but I knew that wasn't a real answer. Maybe I shouldn't have used Dad's family name, maybe trying to hold on to the image we had before was a mistake. I understood the complicated push and pull of family loyalty, I really did. I just had to get her to believe that.

"What about the Baileys?" I tried, feeling like I was grasping at straws. Mom's side of the family didn't carry all the vile aggression that Dad's did. We could forget he existed, entirely. "We could be the Bailey kids."

She wrapped her arms around herself, closing herself off from that suggestion too. "Not a Bailey…"

Fuck, we could rename ourselves the Cleavers if it would make any difference.

But Ali's eyes were starting to water again, and the tears fell haphazardly as she shook her head.

I could practically feel the sister I once had slipping from my grip, and my mind filled with desperation. I wanted it to be like it used to be. I reached for her, wanting to soothe and comfort her turmoil like I always had. "Ali," I cooed, trying to appeal to her. "Teeny…"

She stepped backwards, though, away from me and the hug I was waiting to give her, and held up one palm to stop me. The distance between us felt immeasurable.

I wasn't sure I had made any progress by talking to her today, but I wasn't above begging. "Please, Ali, just tell me what you want me to do. I just want to be a family again."

I reached for her again, moving closer, but she still shied away. I could see her composure degenerating before me. These weren't the scared, frenzied sobs I'd witnessed on our old front lawn, though, but quiet, resigned tears.

Standing there, all folded in on herself, she was still the petite sister I'd always had… but the similarities ended there. Taking in her cropped black hair, her alarming honey eye color and the way she refused to open up to me at all, she seemed so foreign to me.

I didn't know how to get through to her, or what else to say.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, she slipped past me and into the narrow hallway. By the time I turned after her, she had shut herself into the hallway bathroom.

The door had an anthropomorphized purple butterfly with a smiley face painted on it, no doubt a remnant from when Bella was a kid. It seemed terribly at odds with the lives we were living now.

I checked, and the handle was locked.

I pressed my hand against the door, trying to get as close to her as possible, and I could hear her quiet sniffles.

"Ali?" I called through the door.

"Your five minutes are up."

Hell, my five minutes were long over. I knew that. She knew that.

And I knew that this conversation was officially a disaster. I'd taken my fragile baby sister, and made her a crying, baby sister.

But she'd made it clear that she didn't want me to have custody, she didn't even want to be part of our family, and I had no idea how to argue with that. There was nothing left to say, except…

"I love you," I said, leaning my clammy forehead against that damned happy butterfly.

If she heard me, she didn't let me know.

It took several minutes for me to actually turn away from the door, and it wasn't until I promised myself this wasn't over that I actually moved myself down the scuffed, wooden hallway to the stairs. She may not want me to have custody, but she was still my sister, and I would fight for that. Later. Right now, I didn't think any good would come from forcing my company on her.

Jas and Bella were at the kitchen table, no ice cream in sight. I must have looked pretty distressed, because they both jumped up the second they saw me. Jasper's expression was laced heavily with concern, but he didn't speak up just yet.

"Still won't talk about it?" Bella asked with a sigh, and I shook my head.

"You should probably go check on her."

She nodded and headed for the stairs directly behind me, looking compassionate but determined. She surprised me, though, by stopping in front of me and patting her slender hand on my arm. It was a sweet gesture, but not the consolation I was looking for. I did my best to smile down at her – though she was taller than Alice, she still only came to my collarbones.

Once she was gone, Jas moved to stand right in front of me, not touching me except for grazing the tips of his fingers against mine.

It was enough.

"It went shitty," I said, before he even had to ask. "Really, really shitty. She's crying in the bathroom right now."

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I kinda figured. Did you, did you tell her? About us?"

"No," I muttered, a little petulantly. Instead of telling her everything I'd wanted her to know for the past month, I'd just driven us further apart. "We didn't get that far," I explained.

He slid his fingers a little farther between mine, but his lips were pressed into a tight line and the way his expressive eyes searched my face made him look concerned, but also a little disappointed. When I raised an eyebrow questioningly, he admitted, "I was kind of looking forward to holding your hand in the car. You know, once she knew."

Ugh. Just one more goal I didn't accomplish tonight. We still would have had to tell Bella, but that was pretty much dependent on how Ali took it.

At this point, I wondered if I'd ever be able to tell her. Despite everything, all the anger and avoidance and attitude, I still wanted her to know – still wanted her excitement and approval, the way Jas had with his parents.

"So," he said, shifting his weight but still tracing his fingers along my hand in a small, but soothing gesture. "Did you talk about what Charlie said?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"She wants to stay with Charlie. She…" I swallowed uncomfortably; this was hard to admit. "She said she doesn't want to be part of my family anymore."

"What?" Jas's voice was louder and sharper than I'd expected.

"I tried, Jas, I really did."

He shuffled closer to me, slipping his hand into mine to hold it properly. It was a welcome sensation – the more skin we had touching the calmer I felt, and I gave his palm a squeeze. I felt weird holding his hand in Charlie Swan's kitchen, though, so I pulled him over to the front door, and we let ourselves out.

It took me a couple tries to get the key in the ignition, but I finally jammed it in with a grunt, feeling useless and incompetent once again. My temper was flaring back up, and I think it was pretty obvious.

"Hey. Hold up," Jas said softly, putting his hand over mine.

He shifted in his seat, pulling up one foot and twisting to face me.

I mirrored him, feeling too wound up to drive.

He propped his elbows up on the center console and grabbed my hand, holding it up between us. "What exactly did she say?"

"She wants to stay with Charlie," I said bitterly. I knew my moods were especially mercurial tonight; I was wavering between absolutely forlorn and overwhelmingly annoyed, and now the frustration I'd felt earlier was taking a second go-around. "She doesn't want to be a Masen, or a Bailey or anything else that has to do with me or our family."

I was getting angrier just talking about it.

"Hey," he said again. "This is not your fault."

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. If it wasn't my fault, she'd still be fucking talking to me, wouldn't she?

He slid his right hand up my arm until his warm palm cupped my cheek, where he swept this thumb across my skin. It was a welcome contrast to my mood, and I enjoyed his touch until I heard a car pass by and took notice of all the ambient noise around us. That's when I remembered we were parked in a car in public where anyone could see us.

I leaned away from him, shaking my head. "Not here."

He dropped his hand compliantly, moving it back to our hands between us, but looked a little put out. His face looked grim, with his jaw clenched, and his lips were twitching like he had something to say that he wasn't.

And I was in no mood for beating around the bush. "What?"

He pursed his lips for a few moments before answering, like he was decided what to say, but finally did. "I'm pretty mad at your sister. That's a really shitty thing to say."

"Don't be mad at her," I sighed, roughly shoving a few locks of hair out of my face. "She's got her own shit going on."

Jasper didn't look appeased at all, though. Looking directly into my eyes he said, very matter-of-factly, "You are the best big brother she could ever have. No, really. You are so much better with her than I ever was with Rose. And just like you hate my sister—"

I tried to interrupt him to tell him I didn't hate Rosalie, even though sometimes I just wished she didn't exist the way she wished that I didn't, but he shook his head and pressed on.

"I get to be mad at yours for treating you like crap sometimes, okay?"

I sighed, unable to argue with that. I wished she'd be easier to talk to too, but she was my sister and I didn't have the luxury of being mad at her.

"Thanks, Jas," I said softly, leaning in towards him and resting my head on the very edge of my seat. Not for being mad at Ali, but just for caring enough to be angry on my behalf.

He just nodded back, but I knew he understood where I was coming from.

Keeping his bright eyes trained on mine, he leaned against the edge of his own seat, bringing our faces very close together. His thumbs were running over the backs of my hands, and he pushed off the center console with his elbows to place a soft, open-mouth kiss on my forehead. It was tender, and just a little wet, and I could feel the tension ebbing from my stiff shoulders as he held his mouth there for a few seconds. It felt fantastic to finally relax.

…Which is probably why it took me a couple seconds to recognize the figure in my peripheral vision, in the doorway of the Swan's house.

Bella.

One hand hung limply at her side, clutching the thick grey jacket I'd left upstairs, and the other was pressed against her chest as if she'd just gasped.

Crap. What had she seen?

I sat up straighter, instinctually pulling my hands out of Jasper's grip, and took in her bewildered expression. From the bob of her pony tail I could tell she was moving her head slightly, looking back and forth between me and Jasper.

She looked stricken. Maybe it was just the shock, but her eyes were wide and her forehead was creased with some strong emotion I couldn't place. I froze in place like a thief caught in floodlights, thinking, _Crap, couldn't this day just be over?_

When Bella finally looked back to me and we made eye contact, her chin crinkled up and I knew she was about to cry. Obviously, she'd seen something. Dropping my jacket on the landing, she hurled herself back into the house, not even bothering to pull the door closed behind her.

The shock of being seen, being… caught, was only secondary to the panic that rose up when I realized she was about to tell Alice what she'd witnessed.

"Fuck," I cursed, throwing open the car door and climbing out hastily. I was halfway to the front door when I glanced back to Jas, who was still sitting in the car, staring out the windshield. It irked me that he was so damn slow when there was damage control to be done.

This was exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid when I wouldn't let Jas be affectionate in public.

When I was already inside and approaching the stairs, I finally knew he'd gotten out of the car because I heard his door slam loudly.

I reached Bella just as Alice was opening the bathroom door, and her face was puffy and splotchy from crying.

She saw Bella first and asked, alarmed, "What happened?"

Bella's voice was far more distraught than I would have expected as she said, "They were holding hands," she sniffled. "It looked like they were kissing."

Alice's confused eyes traveled to me, then, and Bella followed her gaze. I guess she didn't know I was there, because as soon as she saw me she cried harder. Tears were openly streaming down her cheeks, and she wiped one away with her palm as she turned to shutherself in her bedroom.

Apparently, making girls run away crying was my specialty today, but this time I didn't know why. Was Bella so against same-sex couples? I hadn't pegged her for such a homophobe.

"Who were you kissing?" Ali demanded, coming out of the bathroom, clearly trying to get to Bella.

"No one," I swore, vehemently, because it was the truth. As I said it though, Ali's eyes shifted from my face to directly over my shoulder, and I heard the creak of footsteps at the top of the stairs. Jasper's footsteps.

Ali's eyes widened in understanding because, really, who else was here?

I heard Jasper step up behind me.

Alice had one hand on Bella's doorknob, but was frozen in place, gaping at us.

"You were kissing him? You're… gay now?"

I shook my head, unready to label myself like that. Her eyes narrowed though, and I could tell she thought I was lying, so I said, "But I'm… with Jasper." It was both a relief and a ridiculously nerve-wracking thing to say.

She didn't answer, but just stood there, staring at me like she just found out I brought all the rain to Forks or something.

The silence stretched on for too long as she looked from me to Jas and back, looking incredulous and slightly appalled.

With a slight rustle behind me, Jas moved one hand up to place it on my shoulder. I wasn't sure if it was intended to comfort or to claim me but, as always, his touch was soothing part of me as I revealed myself to the only family I had left.

Another part of me, though – the wound up, aggravated, anxious part of me – was annoyed that we got caught and that he was rubbing this in Ali's face before she'd really had a chance to process it.

I just wanted her acceptance. I thought back to that morning at the Cullen's kitchen table when Jasper had come out to them. He had been so frank, so candid about asking for what he needed.

"It's okay, isn't it?" I asked in a small and nervous voice.

She gawked. "Okay? Are you kidding? Did you see Bella?"

Obviously I had, but it wasn't her opinion I was worried about. "But what do you think?" I pleaded.

She pursed her lips, looking less blotchy and more aggressive than she had earlier. "I think you're an asshole, Edward."

With that she pushed open Bella's door and slammed it behind her.

I was left, standing in the hallway with Jasper, stunned. This day just kept getting worse and worse. I'd finally told Alice the truth; she knew everything, from my plans to get custody of her to my secret life with Jasper… and she thought I was an asshole.

"Fuck!" I growled, whipping around to storm down the hallway. I needed to get out of this house. Obviously, staying here wasn't doing me any good.

Jasper kept his grip on my shoulder, trying to maintain contact with me.

"I said not here," I reminded him with an angry tone and shaking him off.

He leaned away from me, dropping his hand, looking offended and a little hurt. I couldn't deal with that at the moment, though.

I got to the car first, and slammed my palm against the steering wheel while wondering how everything got so fucked up. The sting of the plastic was sharp against my hand, and it helped channel some of my aggression.

I was mad – mad that we'd gotten caught, and that Jas had been so free with his affection even after I told him not to. If he'd only kept his hands to himself…

He finally joined me, but told me to get out of the car. Apparently, he didn't want me to drive, so I got out and moved to the passenger's side. We passed the ride in silence, and even though it was seriously uncomfortable I kept my eyes trained out the window and never said a word.

When we pulled up to his house, he took the keys out of the ignition and laid them on the dashboard between us.

Without even turning to me he said, quietly, "I wasn't holding my own hand, Edward. And it's not my fault your sister got mad." Then he stepped out of the car and went into the house without bothering to wait.

It took me a moment to figure out what the hell that even meant. Holding his own hand? Of course he wasn't holding his own hand, we were holding each other's… oh.

I struggled against the feeling of shame that rose up – it was almost more comfortable just to be angry – but he was right. It wasn't his fault much more than it was mine. I wished he hadn't initiated anything like that in public, but I could have pulled away much sooner. Hell, I could have just told Ali when she'd pointed out how I'd been itching to talk to her, or even made more of an effort to tell her before today.

I guess… I could have done a lot of things differently. And now, instead of just Ali, I had alienated both of the most important people in my life in the span of just two hours. I slammed my hand against the dashboard again, as a distraction from the anger and blame I now directed at myself.

I grabbed the keys and locked the car behind me, intent on apologizing to Jasper and moving past this as quickly as possible. I couldn't let my relationship with Jas deteriorate like what I had with Ali, especially not if it was my fault.

Apparently dinner was ready, though, and they had been waiting on us, so Esme told me to wash my hands and come to dinner immediately. Jasper picked at his plate, but wouldn't make eye contact with me. His shoulders were slumped and his head was bowed, and seeing him like that just made me feel even guiltier.

He had been trying to help me, to comfort me, and I'd lashed out at him. I shouldn't let my frustration over things with Alice spill over into my time with Jasper.

Of course, remembering the division between my life with Alice and Jasper only reminded me of the whole college situation, and I had to suppress a groan at the dinner table.

Jas cleared his place and was excused from dinner in record time, and when I went to find him his bedroom door was pushed mostly shut. I knocked, out of courtesy, but he didn't say anything so I pushed my way in.

He was sitting at his desk, listening to his iPod and staring at some homework assignment I didn't really think he was focusing on. I called his name a couple times but he couldn't hear me, so I had to stand by the edge of his desk to get his attention. He looked up, startled, but with a whole slew of emotions on his face: hurt, anger, disappointment, suspicion and probably some others I couldn't read.

"I'm sorry," I said, cutting to the chase and hoping to diffuse his tension. He couldn't hear me through his earbuds, though, and pulled them out. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I don't want to fight."

He gave me an appraising look, and I knew I must be confusing the hell out of him since my emotions had been ping-ponging all over the place today. I really was sorry, though, and that was the emotion I was sticking with.

"Her reaction wasn't my fault," he answered cautiously.

"I know, I… I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you."

He nodded, accepting my apology, but didn't say anything more.

I didn't think I could take any more charged silences today, though, so I soldiered on with everything I wanted to tell him. "I'm not trying to leave you."

"Leave me?" He instantly looked alarmed.

I realized that maybe I should have led into that a little better, but I didn't want him to worry so I grabbed both his hands and sat myself on his desk. "I wasn't thinking straight, Jas. I have to be here for Ali, you know?" But the remaining apprehension on his face told me that no, he didn't know. "I know you're going to Cornell, and I wanted to stay here for her, but it never really clicked."

"College?" he choked out. "You're talking about college?"

I nodded, and he nodded back, solemnly.

"So you really hadn't thought about it?"

"No," I groaned. "I'm such a dumbass."

"I thought," he murmured quietly, "that you'd already made a decision."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well," he looked away, embarrassed or ashamed or something. "I figured if it was still up for debate, you'd have said something. And I know she's your sister, but I really didn't want to hear you choose her."

Several of his dirty-blond waves were covering his face but, since I held his hands, he couldn't brush them away. I freed one hand and did it for him, revealing those blue eyes I loved so much.

"I don't want to have to choose. I can't choose between you two."

"Do you still want to go to Princeton?"

"If Ali were okay," I said honestly, "yes."

He shook his soft curls out of his face again, but kept his eyes downcast. "What about, if Alice was okay… what about Cornell?"

Cornell. School with Jasper. Wow. Could I really follow my boyfriend to college? Wasn't that supposed to be a big no-no? Besides, could I justify leaving my sister behind if I wasn't attending the school I'd always dreamed of?

In a perfect world, yes.

Or what if she never let me back in? What if another year passed and she was still shutting me out of her life completely? Would I really give up Jasper just to be shunned here in Forks? No, I didn't think I could do that.

If it were up to me, I would follow Jasper anywhere.

I didn't want to go making any promises I couldn't keep, though, so I did my best to lighten things up with a teasing smile. "Wouldn't that kind of be stealing your thunder, though?"

He grinned back – the first actual smile of the night – and looked directly into my eyes. "You're part of my thunder, Edward."

And I sure as hell wanted to be. God, it sounded so good. Being with him, staying with him, having everything I wanted and not having to worry about Ali.

But that scenario was dependent on so many 'if's. How was I supposed to plan so far in advance?

"I don't know," I said, and his smile fell. "How will I know she'll be okay?"

"Charlie would take good care of her. He already does. Or," he added, probably sensing my hesitation, "Mom and Dad could… adopt her."

The Cullens? Would Alice want to be a Cullen? Probably not, I decided, but if the state rejected both me and Charlie, surely they wouldn't turn down the Cullens. They were perfect parents. Plus, weren't judges supposed to try to keep families together? And I was already part of the Cullen family, kind of.

Sliding my hands up his arms, I pulled myself down to Jasper and hugged him tightly, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "I thought I could do it alone, but…"

"I know," he said, "it's been a tough month for you. Things are starting to slip through the cracks."

I leaned back so I could just barely see his face, curious.

"I think there's a lot of details to this Alice situation you haven't really considered, yet. Plus, it's November and you haven't even decided where you're applying to college," he explained. "You haven't started a single application, which is entirely unlike you. I know you haven't gotten your two hundred dash time back yet, and you've forgotten your homework on my desk at least five times."

I pulled back farther, confused. All of those things were true, except the last one. "I always have my homework at school."

He smiled sweetly, in an accepting way. "I know," he said softly.

When I realized what he'd been doing for me, I pulled myself against him and whispered, "Thanks."

In response, he shifted his hands to my hips and gently slid me off his desk, directly into his lap. He kicked his feet against the ground and pushed his rolly-chair out of the view from the partially open door.

I held on to his shoulders lap while we moved. Even though I wanted to bask in this tender moment with Jas, it was now abundantly clear that my life was too interwoven with his to let him slip away next year.

The anxiety of losing him quickly returned, which just encouraged the anxiety over having potentially already lost Ali, especially now that she seemed to hate the idea of my being with Jasper.

I'd thought I was done with this emotional rollercoaster for the night but, apparently, I was wrong.

In was somewhere in the middle of those musings that I felt the brief vibration of my phone in my pocket, which nearly startled me off Jasper's lap. Placing a foot on the floor, I fished it from my pocket awkwardly to find a text from Alice.

**Sue will take us to school, don't bother coming by. **

I sighed and turned the phone so Jas could read it. He nodded, sighing along with me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered into my ear

But I didn't. I felt like I had talked myself into exhaustion, and now I just wanted to rest, so I shook my head and rested it on his shoulder.

He moved one hand up to the back of my neck, stroking his thumb along my hairline in a gesture that worked wonders against my nerves.

It seemed a little ridiculous that I had come in here to apologize to Jasper and he had ended up comforting me but, still, I was grateful.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Jas huffed aloud. "What an awful day."

I groaned, pressing my chest tighter against his. "No kidding."

"How 'bout tomorrow after track," he said, in a lighter and suggestive tone, "we get out of here. Go to Port Angeles, and forget all about Forks. We can be together, alone."

"The guys will want to do pizza after the meet," I said, knowing we had already skipped out on that particular ritual too many times. "How 'bout Saturday? We can go all day"

"Sure," he said lazily. "Hey, Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me take you on a date." It was obvious from his voice that he was smiling.

A real date, a first date. It sounded exciting, more so because it would be with Jas. I guess it was a little ridiculous that I had already felt him naked but we hadn't been on a date, but I was still excited at the prospect of going out like any other couple would. It made me feel lucky and, well, mature.

Deciding that I felt a little too much like a child curled up on his lap, I sat up and resituated myself so I was straddling him. Our faces were so close they were nearly touching, as were… other parts of our bodies. Raising one eyebrow at him, I asked, "And how are you going to take me on a date, mister, if I'm the one driving?"

"Oh, please," he scoffed playfully. "Your clunker barely makes it to school. I'll get Mom to let me borrow the Mercedes." Then he kissed me, a quick peck on the lips that I insisted on lengthening into full-on tongue massage. Finally, he pulled away and added, a little breathless, "Maybe we can dress up a little. Like, good jeans and a nice shirt."

"Yeah?" I asked, not entirely opposed to this idea. "Will you wear the blue sweater?" Not only did it cling to him in ways that reminded me how nice it would be to take that sweater off, but it made his eyes just… frickin… pop. I could spend hours upon hours in a car with those eyes.

He chuckled at me and, even though I think he was laughing to hide a smirk, I laughed along. I pressed myself against him, reveling in the feel of all the body parts we had touching. I was eager to begin my favorite part of the night and forget about the emotional disaster that was our evening. After that whole mess, I was especially thankful to have him happily in my arms, and kissed him senseless to tell him so.

Somewhere in the middle of the kissing I moved my mouth to his ear, apologizing again for being such an asshole today, but he just nodded and continued kissing me.

Eventually he claimed that we had homework to do, which was true. I finished it diligently, working away the hours until we could climb into bed together and continue where we'd left off.

* * *

**Happy New Year to everyone - I hope the holiday season treated you all well. **

**A very loud thank you to Elvelethril, my wonderful beta. **

**And more thanks to all you reviewers - you brighten my day immeasurably.  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**NEWS: Your Biggest Fan is up for a Golden Lemon Award under Best Slash. Am I shocked? Yes. Giddy? Yes. Hoping you'll vote for it? Also yes.  
You can find the ballot with all of the other fantastic nominees at www . goldenlemonawards . com**

**Also, a huge thank you to whoever nominated me.  
**

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.  
**

* * *

I spent the car ride this morning freaking out because, well, I'm me, and my brain just goes into overdrive sometimes. Bella and Alice knew our secret, and in all the chaos of tears and insults, I hadn't even asked them not to say anything. I was convinced Bella would tell someone, especially since she seemed so upset by it. Jasper, on the other hand, thought that was all the more reason she'd keep it to herself.

"Why would she tell anyone?" he asked. "That's just even more embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? That we're dating?"

He laughed a little and said, "More like, embarrassing that her crush is into guys."

Crush? I turned my head to stare at him. That came out of left field.

Jas was still grinning at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly and looking all in-the-know.

"You know, if it wasn't sort of cute, I'd be worried about how clueless you can be."

I gaped back at him, trying to come up with some answer that proved I wasn't clueless, but obviously failing.

Eventually, he rolled his eyes and said, "You. She likes you."

"How do you know?"

"Little things, I guess. I kinda thought she has for a while, just with the way she's always looking at you or asking about you, but yesterday pretty much sealed the deal."

"But," I said, looking for some evidence that that wasn't true. Maybe it was actually Jasper that she liked. Between the two of us, he was definitely the better catch. "I would have noticed. She treats me exactly the same she always has."

I thought that was a pretty good argument, but Jas was already sure he was right because he just kept smirking at me. "Maybe she's always adored you. You're like the big brother she never had. Except… not a brother, so it's alright if she thinks you're sexy."

I rolled my eyes, just not seeing it. Bella was sweet and adorable and still had puppies on all her folders. Somehow I doubted she thought anyone was sexy.

Jasper reached across the gearstick to put his hand on my leg – that was the one, and only, upside to not driving with the girls anymore – while I tried to keep my freakout to a minimum. I sort of believed him, or at least the part about her not telling, if only because of how kindhearted she was. Still, though, some reassurance would be nice.

I didn't see either of the girls all day until lunch, where Bella was staring a hole through the back of my head. I couldn't actually see her, obviously, but Tyler wouldn't shut up about it. He seemed to think it was pretty funny.

"What'd you do, promise her her first kiss?"

"No!" I swore, trying to get the conversation as far away from that idea as possible. When that didn't work I tried to just shrug it off, but I guess it was a slow day because Bella Swan staring at me was the new it topic. The truth was I wanted to get up and go talk to her but I wasn't sure how, since my track record for delicate conversations with girls was pretty shoddy lately. Still, the thought of her telling someone was enough to make my stomach flip, and I packed my lunch back up in defeat.

After a few minutes of Tyler's taunting and my patience fraying thin, Jas pushed his chair back from the table saying he would go talk to her. I was quietly thrilled, until the way she threw her arms around him led to jokes about how Jasper was stealing my chance to tap that.

It turns out, swearing up and down that you don't want to bone a girl is the best way to convince people you do.

"It's alright, man," Tyler said, "we'll let you have first crack at her. But if you and Jasper both strike out, I'm all over that."

"Isn't she, like, fourteen?" Mike asked.

"Yes!" I said, glad that someone was thinking clearly.

"Whatever," Tyler answered, leaning back in his chair and grinning. "Girls mature faster. Plus, she's hot."

That led to a lot of boob-miming where Tyler pretending to squeeze his own, or Bella's breasts. Either way, he was over-exaggerating them, and I just didn't want to deal with it anymore. I didn't know if Bella was hot, and I didn't care.

"Ty," I said, slinging my backpack over one shoulder, "just shut up, okay?"

"Don't worry Masen," he smirked, holding his hands up innocently, "I won't make a move on your girl."

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the tenth time that morning, and headed off towards the counseling office.

Mrs. Cope made a fuss about how I was waiting until the last minute to get my papers in, but they were in on time and that's all that mattered to me. I'd ended up keeping all the local colleges checked off, but added a bunch of east coast schools with good bio programs too. Jas had been looking over my shoulder last night when I checked off Cornell, but instead of saying anything he just gave me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. It felt good to make him happy, and equally good to know I was leaving myself open to the chance of going off to school with him.

The rest of my afternoon was spent turning in homework and answering questions off the board, but really I spent it wondering how Jas and Bella's conversation went. I didn't see him until we were hurrying off toward track, and he filled me in on the way.

And, of course, Jasper was right.

I mean, he wouldn't exactly say so, since he'd promised Bella he wouldn't tell me whatever she'd said, but I needed him to at least say something. He pushed his wavy hair back from his face, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Basically, it's just what I thought. She was embarrassed."

So Bella did like me. Huh. That was interesting. I vaguely wondered if in another world, where Jas wasn't around and she was older, I would have liked her back.

…Nah.

Besides, that was a moot point anyway. What mattered was that Bella wasn't some close-minded homophobe, and she wouldn't tell anyone what she'd seen. In retrospect, I almost felt bad for thinking that someone as genuinely good as Bella would start spreading rumors. Then again, it was a lot easier to think of the best of her without cold flames of anxiety licking at the back of my mind.

"And Alice?" I asked.

"She doesn't think Alice will tell anyone either, but she said she'd make her promise tonight."

"That's such a relief," I said. "Was Bella, I mean, is she still upset?"

He kept his eyes ahead of him and said, "I think talking helped."

I nodded along, musing quietly. Jas was an excellent listener, and I guess it made sense that Bella would need to vent. Even if she'd told Alice, she'd still been hiding it pretty well. Then again, I guess the time for secrets had passed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly as we passed the last of the classrooms before the gym. If it was so clear to him, why didn't he fill me in?

Even just walking next to him, I could feel him tense. I was leaning toward him, trying to catch whatever he might say, but he kept his eyes fixed on the gym door.

"Well," he finally said, pausing. "By the time I was really sure, she was already, you know, competition."

I scoffed loud enough for him to hear. How could Bella ever compare to Jas?

"She's just a baby freshman."

"I don't know," he said, shrugging and shifting his backpack off one shoulder. "She's really pretty."

Hmm, Tyler had said the same thing. Sure, I could see that, I guess I just hadn't really thought about it. She was just… Bella.

Before I had the chance to say that, though, we were caught in a swirl of people pushing their way into the gym and Jas was heading for the locker room.

It wasn't until after we were dressed and I was watching Jasper jog around the track that it occurred to me… _when did Jasper start worrying about competition?_

Of course, hurdles were the wrong time to think about that, and I really didn't want to dive face-first into the waxy floor again, so I focused on visualizing my front foot passing clean over the wooden bar. One of the few other schools within driving distance was coming over for a friendly meet this afternoon, and we were all basically just warming up.

Hurdles were my worst event, so it was no real surprise when I lost. I won most of the sprints, though, and was happy with that, even though two months ago I would have won them all.

An unexpected victory actually went to Leah – not against me, but in a longer race – and seeing her pushing herself out there reminded me of what I'd learned yesterday. I wondered if she thought about her dad when she ran, the way I thought about Mom. I also wondered why she'd never said anything, since I was probably one of the few people who knew how that felt.

Then again, how would she even bring it up? She had only transferred to Forks High last year, and no one really wants to hear, 'So, the gossip mill told me your mom died.' Maybe there wasn't anything to say, anyway. She never came to pizza night, so it's not like I knew her all that well.

The thought of pizza then reminded me that Tyler was especially set on trying anchovies tonight, which I thought was disgusting.

When the time came, though, Jas and I put one oily, salty fish in our mouths, and promptly ordered a Hawaiian instead. The night was fun, overall, but the longer we sat around pretending that our track team was hot shit, the closer we got to the end of the night.

The end of the night brought tomorrow, and tomorrow brought the date. Our first date.

Of course, there's no way I could explain that excitement to the rest of the guys, so I just smiled and let them think I was gloating over the races I'd won. Jas was extra smug too, though, so I figured he knew what I was thinking.

However, despite all the excitement, Saturday afternoon still found me totally unprepared. It was one forty-five and not only was my hair still damp, but I couldn't find a sweater to wear.

I'm not really that picky about clothes. Sure, I knew which shirts looked best on Jas, mostly since I spent so much time staring at them, but it's not like I had picked out the sweater I wanted to wear or something. So when the brown one I first thought of wasn't in my closet, I tried to find the kinda soft black one I knew Jas liked. And when that was also missing, I reached for a third option. It was only after I realized that had disappeared too that I cursed myself for not looking last night.

I had checked everything else. I had made sure my good jeans were still hole-free and clean, I'd stopped by the ATM, and I'd even googled things to do in Port Angeles. I did find a nice place for dinner but, other than that, I didn't turn up much we hadn't already done. Sure, we had found a few good fall-back spots to kick around at over the years, but it was still the same old place. The main thing Port Angeles had going for it was that it wasn't Forks, and our date would probably just be dinner and a movie.

I could already hear the faint patter of rain outside the window, so that meant any stops by the beach were out.

I quickly buttoned up my pants and threw on one of my white t-shirts before padding through the kitchen to Esme's laundry room. It was set up just off the garage, and I ran across the cold concrete as quickly as I could on my bare tip-toes.

The laundry room itself was warmer, and Esme was there folding socks into neat little piles. I had a feeling Jasper's and mine would be stacked together, since not even we could tell them apart.

I startled her, jumping in from the cold garage onto the little rug beside the dryer, and she clutched one of Carlisle's dress socks to her chest for protection.

"Jeez! Edward! You scared me. Did you need something?"

"Yeah," I said, fidgeting and trying to stand with one foot on top of the other to warm them up. "Have you seen any of my sweaters? I can't find them."

"Oh, sure," she said, reaching into the dryer and pulling out my brown jersey-cotton v-neck.

It was still warm, and I wanted to pull it on immediately. "Was it dirty?" I asked, not remembering wearing it recently.

Esme raised one very motherly eyebrow at me. "It was wrinkled in the bottom of your closet, if that's what you mean."

I had the sense to look a little sheepish. Okay, so I was kind of bad at hanging things up.

"Can I blame it on the hangers?" They were slippery… or something.

She just chuckled and tsked me, and then went back to folding socks.

Now that I had this one in my hands, though, Jas really did like the black one better. I stooped to look for that one and found it on the top, also still toasty warm.

I pulled it against my chest and let the dryer's heat warm me up. I stood, planning to dash back across the chilly garage and try to be ready by two, but the look on Esme's face stopped me.

She was watching me very very carefully, and smiling.

"We're going to Port Angeles," I said, hoping that would explain my need for warm clothing.

She nodded and mm-hmmed. "So I heard. Jasper said you two might need some laundry done."

Her smile morphed, then, into a very minor smirk, and that's when I realized that she knew. Either Jas had told her or she'd figured it out but, either way, she knew.

I don't know why that was so embarrassing or, really, how I thought she could not know.

"It's not that big a deal," I murmured, trying to fight back my own smile.

"You take that back." She shook more socks at me. "My little boy has his first date today, so you'll just have to forgive my good mood."

I grinned wider but blushed harder. Her little boy wasn't so little anymore, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell her that.

"Here," she said, leaning over to root around in the dryer some more. "Will you bring him this one?" In her hands was the light blue v-neck I had asked Jasper to wear.

So he had told her. I felt a little safer knowing she hadn't just figured it out on her own, but I still ducked out of the laundry room with our clothes in my arms and sprinted on my toes back into the house.

I knocked and pushed Jasper's door open, knowing he might still be changing. Unfortunately, he already had an undershirt on, but I could still the broad muscles of his chest and the way his hipbones pressed against the waistband of his dark jeans. He was beautiful.

"I brought you something," I said softly, leaning against his doorframe.

"Ooh, thanks." He stepped over to me, the soft waves of his hair bouncing in front of his eyes, and stretched his arms out for his clothes.

I held his sweater up but, instead of grabbing it, he reached up to my chest and passed his thumb over one of my protruding nipples. I hadn't known it was hard, but I was sure as hell aware now. I shivered.

"You might want to bundle up, it's gonna be freezing up there." His eyes weren't on me, though, they were on his finger still tracing the nub under my shirt.

I reached up to pull his hand away, knowing we'd never get anywhere if he didn't stop. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I said, "Ready in five?'

He nodded, and I backed away to go finish getting dressed.

About ten minutes later, I met him at the front door where he was tying his shoes. He was leaning over, tugging at the laces, leaving his ass in the air for anyone to see. I definitely paused to admire it.

Pale blue covered what should have been a tempting sliver of skin, but the elastic peeking out told me he was wearing boxer briefs instead of boxers. I loved him in boxer briefs, with the way they curved over his ass and pulled around his bulge. It was a shame to hide something so good looking behind baggy boxers.

When he turned around to greet me, I got to admire the front of him. His eyes were the brightest thing in the room, and the lean bulk of his biceps stretched at the fabric covering them. There was something else, though. He looked different… older, maybe?

When he reached a hand up to pat his head self-consciously, I realized that his hair was a little darker, probably from some kind of gel, and it stayed pushed back even under his poking. Obviously, he couldn't decide whether styling it had been a good move or not, but I kinda liked it. Usually his shaggy hair framed his face, and he tucked it behind his ears to keep it under control. This kept it out of his way entirely, without making it look brittle or slimy.

Yeah, I liked it.

I wondered briefly if I should have thought of gel too. Then again, with my hair, it was probably a lost cause anyway. I had checked a mirror in the hall and my hair was still trying to pull in eight directions at once.

He was looking me up and down, nodding appreciatively. I was enjoying staring back, but his gaze made me a little too self-aware, so I took a deep breath to suggest we hit the road.

Our quiet bubble was shattered by Rosalie's voice before I had the chance. I hadn't heard her footsteps or the shifting of her purse but when we turned, there she was, chewing her gum and looking inconvenienced as usual.

"You guys look like Gap mannequins," she said with a roll of her eyes, before stalking past us.

I just stood there, blinking, because I really didn't know what to say to that. First of all, Rosalie hadn't said anything to me in weeks. And second, as far as insults go, that was kind of lame. I would have expected her to just say we looked like preppy assholes.

Well, I guess she basically did.

Jas didn't say anything either, and once she shut the door behind her he moved to me, placing a hand on my lower back. Somehow, that felt like the warmest point on my body.

"You look nice," he said quietly.

"You too. The hair's good."

"Yeah?" He brought his free hand up to prod at it some more, but I grabbed it and smirked a little.

"Yeah, so don't mess with it." His hand still tugged at mine, but I held it firmly.

Finally, he dropped the tension in his arm and said, "Thanks." Then, he pulled Esme's keys out of his pocket and jangled them, "Let's get out of here."

I followed him, tossing my jacket and scarf over my arm and making sure I had my wallet. Esme's car was in the garage and, with it, was Esme. She was blatantly peeking her head out of the laundry room and waiting for us.

"Oh, you boys look so nice!"

We stepped over to her, expecting motherly cooing and directions to drive safe, but instead she just held up her hand and said, "Wait right here." Then, from the kitchen, she yelled, "Come where there's better light!"

I had an inkling of what she was up to, and from the way he slowly ambled back inside, I think Jasper did too. On the way I whispered in his ear, "You're the one who had to tell her," and he had the good sense to look repentant.

Sure enough, Esme was standing in the center of the kitchen, angling herself so the dim light coming through the window was behind her. "Stand by the island," she directed.

_Sure, _I thought,_ take a picture of your son's first date. Because that's not awkward at all. _

Jasper did the obligatory "Mo-om" but she was entirely unphased, ordering us to turn and lean and smile. She held the camera up for quite a while, and I kept waiting for the flash, but instead she finally lifted her gaze above it.

"Come on, guys, no need to be so formal."

I rolled back my shoulders, since they were pretty tense in front of the camera, and when I looked to Jasper, I realized he was almost a foot away.

He stepped closer and leaned in to whisper, "Maybe we should go for Old Navy mannequins instead."

That immediately cured my awkwardness and I full-on laughed. I knew exactly which commercial he was talking about, with the mannequins dating and gossiping and flashing their plastic parts to each other's plastic husbands, or whatever.

I felt the flash of the camera behind my eyelids, so I sidled up to Jas and asked Esme to take another, just so her only picture wouldn't include the inside of my mouth. I think she snapped several more, and eventually gave us a hug and some well-wishes.

And then finally – finally! – we were on our way to Port Angeles to… do whatever we ended up doing, I guessed. Jas hadn't said anything about potential plans, either. Almost halfway there, I decided to bring it up while scanning through the radio for a station that wasn't playing crap or static.

"So, I was thinking, air hockey?" I'd heard there was a new table at the bowling place.

He glanced sideways at me, but went back to watching the road with a smug little grin while he pretended to think about it. "Hmmm, no."

"Okay," I said, slightly taken aback. I hadn't thought it was that bad an idea, but I folded my hands in my lap and tried not to sound too phased. "It was just an idea."

The corners of his lips twisted into an even more obvious smirk. A few moments passed before he said, in an overly casual voice, "Well, the Marine Center has a new touch tank."

I instantly perked up. We'd wandered in there once, out of boredom, and their idea of a 'live' exhibit was hermit crabs. Snore.

A good touch tank, though… "Really? Like, a real one?"

Jas laughed from deep in his belly while he tipped his head back and watched the road through squinted eyes. "Yeah, a real one. It's some traveling exhibit from the Seattle Aquarium."

That actually sounded fantastic. Coming from Phoenix, I was a sucker for marine life. But I knew that he, on the other hand, could care less. The last time I'd run through seaweed after some huge purply-orange crab, he'd just sat on the sand saying if he couldn't eat it he wasn't interested.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We don't have to." I didn't see how a dinky wannabe-aquarium would hold his interest.

"Well, if you'd rather get schooled at air hockey, we could do that instead."

I reached across the car to give him a light punch on the shoulder, smirking right back, but then I slid my hand down his arm to where his sleeves were pushed up. I traced my fingers through the soft blond hair dusting his forearms.

Then it occurred to me. "Wait, how do you know?" I had spent half an hour googling for something, anything, new to do.

He twisted his hand up to hold mine, keeping it captive against his thigh. "Mr. Banner told us. It's extra credit if we go."

I gave him a fake scowl and accused, "You're using our date for extra credit points?"

Nothing seemed to dim his smug grin, though, or the brightness in his gaze. He swept a thumb across the back of my hand and said, "I don't need the extra credit. Now, do you want to poke at fish or not?"

I laughed and conceded because I really did want to go, and he knew it.

The first thing I noticed when we walked in was that everyone at the Marine Center was either under ten, or telling their child not to put dirty fingers in their mouths. There were large picture windows to let in natural light, but the rain made the day look dreary and foreboding instead.

"You know," I said, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "We can just leave."

He pressed against me, close enough that I could feel his breath against my neck, and I almost shivered.

"Are you kidding?" he whispered. "You're gonna stick your hands in that nasty-ass water. Then you're gonna be all giddy like the bio-geek you are, and I'm gonna be the boyfriend who made you smile like that."

I leaned back to laugh, watching how his face was just as excited as mine would supposedly be. "So it's all about you, then?"

He nodded with mock solemnity. "Absolutely. Now go pet something slimy and make me look good."

I laughed again, wanting to slip my arms around his chest or kiss him, but this wasn't the place for it. Instead, I just grazed his arm with the back of my hand in a small, covert gesture.

Then, I was off to poke fish.

Of course, there weren't actually fish in the tank, but there was a whole variety of starfish and slugs and anemones and urchins. Kids were obligingly holding out two snotty fingers to pet these poor captive creatures, soaking their shirts all the way up to the elbow.

I learned from their mistakes and rolled my sleeves up. The sea stars were brittle and boring, and the sea cucumbers were especially slick. Most of the anemones had been prodded too long to still react at all, but I found one dark purple one in the deepest, coldest water that was well camouflaged.

Following the two-finger rule, I brushed against his stringy feelers. Sure enough, it felt like running my hand over the sticky side of scotch tape as he did his best to trap, poison and engulf my impervious fingers. Of course, once he was folded up the fun was over, but it was still worth it.

Jasper was hovering, watching me instead of the creatures we came here to see. I guess I had the goofy grin he'd been expecting because he looked pretty damn pleased with himself.

I pulled him up to the tank, insisting he at least touch something. He protested, saying the tank was only made for nerds like me, but I finally pushed up his sleeve and got him to cave.

After all that teasing, though, I didn't think he deserved a warning when he reached for an especially gelatinous sea cucumber. He tentatively stroked two fingers against it before hissing and yanking his hand out of the water.

"That is disgusting!" he said, too loudly, and I snickered.

Before I had a chance to protect myself, he lifted his hand in retaliation and flicked all that cold water at my face. I guess I should have seen that coming, seeing as how that's one of Jasper's favorite tricks, but I never thought he'd do it with something so gross.

"Eiw," I said, trying to grab his wrist and keep his hand away from me. "There's kid germs and urchin poop in there."

"And you made me put my hand in there!" he laughed, incredulous, before trying to flick more water from his fingertips at me.

I managed to get a hold of his wrist that time, holding it down between us so he couldn't get me, while he tried to wrestle back.

We were laughing and grunting loudly, trying to win control of his hand. When I finally noticed the docents staring at us like we were single-handedly ruining the education of every child in the room, I pushed Jas toward the exit.

Outside the rain had picked up, and we were in too much danger of getting soaked to roughhouse anymore so we sprinted to the car.

We wiped our wet hands off on our pants and recomposed ourselves before Jas turned on the car.

"Where to?" he asked, turning up the heat.

"A bathroom, for sure." We'd missed out on the antibacterial gels they had by the touch tanks, and I wasn't kidding about the crap in that water. I wanted to wash my face, too, so I could kiss him without worrying about whatever was dried on my skin. I still planted a big wet one on his cheek before we pulled out of the lot, though.

Jas was pretty hungry, so we opted for an early dinner. First we parked by the theater to scout out movies. I didn't care about any high-quality drama, since I pretty much just wanted to curl up with him for a while, and I told him so. He suggested one of the cheesy romantic comedies, but neither of us were that into chick flicks, and I saw no reason to see something with romance just because we were on a date.

"Can a date movie have zombies?" I asked, scanning the options. Brain-eating monsters were something we could both enjoy.

"Absolutely," he nodded, looking a little relieved. "I'm sure someone survives."

Two tickets to Zombieland it was, then.

We threw around choices for dinner, mostly the places we frequented like Cornerhouse or Maria's, but this is where my googling came in handy.

"You know, we could try Café Garden."

He raised one eyebrow. "What are we, vegetarians?"

I chuckled. That was exactly why we'd always passed it up before. "Naw. I looked it up, and it's just a normal place. They have pasta and reubens and stuff."

"Alright," he said, with a new look coming over his face. It was, I don't know, soft and almost nostalgic, expect it's not like we'd ever been there before. "It would be nice to try something new."

As we walked to the restaurant we didn't hold hands or anything, but we did share an umbrella. The sides of our shoulders bumped against each other's, and I let mine linger there as we talked and joked quietly with each other.

It was pretty much like it had always been, just a little more intimate. The change felt nice.

First things first, we washed the aquarium grime off ourselves in the bathroom. As I was drying my face, I felt two large hands move around my waist from behind. It was a one-person bathroom, and we'd locked the door, so I quickly spun on the spot to place my hands on the woolly fabric covering Jas's warm chest.

He'd restrained himself all day, and I had too, but this brief moment of privacy allowed us to finally give in to each other. I'd been wanting to kiss him senseless since we got to the aquarium, and I finally got to.

I wasted no time, pressing our lips together firmly and leaning the length of my body against his. We hadn't even taken off our coats, so we were a little bulky, but it still felt good to have his arms around me. His hands splayed downward to press my hips against his, and even through all the layers it felt exciting.

"This is fun" I said, between kisses.

"It always is," he answered distractedly, passing one hand up my back to where he stroked the exposed skin of my neck.

I grinned, clanking my teeth against his, and then pulled back. "No, I mean just being here, with you. I like… dating."

He leaned down to my neck, placing one soft, wet kiss against that spot that sends warm tingles through my entire body. Then he whispered, "Me too. I love dating you."

I wanted to say more, or maybe just say nothing and spend the night with his mouth right there, but we were interrupted by the gurgle of his stomach.

I gave his butt a friendly squeeze and then grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let's get you some food before people start wondering why two guys are hogging the bathroom."

That turned out to be a good plan, because by the time I got my pasta I was ravenous too. The food was delicious, just like the internet reviews said it would be, and we both dug in heartily.

We made it back to the theater just in time for the movie, and after we picked up some popcorn Jas pulled me down to the end of the last row. I didn't question it, since I felt a lot safer holding his hand back here, and it felt like we'd had a long day with only very minimal touching. I settled into the seat with our knees touching, and then with our whole calves aligned. Halfway into the movie Jas finally just slipped his whole knee under mine so that my leg was draped across his. Most people had filtered into the front half of the theater, so we didn't have to worry about being seen.

Still, though, I tensed when he slid his hand down my thigh. I was kind of afraid he'd want to start something here, and I wasn't sure I liked that idea. I tensed more when his other hand grazed my ribs and I was just about to say something when I felt him pull the arm rest up between us. His hand on my leg actually pushed my knee away from him, and I felt him scoot farther way, into the corner of his seat.

I turned to him, confused, and in the flickering light of some zombie being blown to pieces I saw Jas's hand, beckoning me to him. He had settled himself in the corner at an angle in a halfway-reclining position. When I didn't move he waved me over again, and then leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

"I want you closer."

I nodded, leaning over to lay against his body. His put one hand on my shoulder and the other on my chest, and I reached up to hold them both. I felt instantly warmer and happier, nuzzled up against him like this, except that Jas was twisting his shoulders trying to adjust his position every few minutes. I knew I was no light weight to be laying under, so I pulled my jacket off my chair and offered it to him.

When he stuffed it against the hard plastic of the chair behind his back, he seemed a lot more comfortable and I settled back in against him.

We both watched the movie, laughing at the zombie's idiotic maneuvers and the human's ridiculous plots, but the energy of the day never quite disappeared. I was kind of aching to get out of there and really touch him, and his fingers kept streaking arcs against my t-shirt that only made it worse. When he tried to drop a piece of popcorn in my mouth I reached up and grabbed it with my teeth playfully. He didn't fight back, so I closed my lips around his finger and sucked it into my mouth. Still, he didn't pull it away.

Instead, he left his finger between my lips, letting the weight of his hand hold it in my mouth. I swiped my tongue against it, tasting the butter and salt, and in response I felt the fingers of his other hand curl against my hand and shoulder.

I slid my mouth away from his hand, waiting until after the movie to rile him up.

When we spilled out of the theater, I pressed myself against Jas under the protective umbrella and whispered, "Let's go home."

He shook his head, sprinkling the few drops of rain that had landed in his hair onto my neck and whispered back, "I have a better idea."

When we got to the car we climbed in, but Jas grabbed my hand before I could buckle up. His face didn't have the horny look I was expecting but, instead, his eyes were wider than I've ever seen them. He looked so affectionate but also, somehow, intense.

"Jas?" I asked.

"Edward," he said softly, watching my face, but he didn't continue.

"Jas? Is something wrong?" I reached across the car to pull his hands into my lap, where I held them tightly.

He shook head and looked away, and when he turned back his expression had changed again, to something very open and vulnerable.

"Edward," he said again, "I'm really really happy."

I took in a deep pull of air in relief, and realized I'd been holding my breath. "Man, Jas, you don't look it." Then I moved one hand up to his cheek to stroke the soft skin there, and he relaxed visibly.

He smiled a little self-consciously, then let his eyes fall closed. His breaths were deep and audible. "I was just… trying to pick the right words."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me, and kept up the movement of my fingers, working them into the tips of his swept-back hair. Jas was rarely at a loss for words, but I definitely understood needing time to turn thoughts into sentences.

I felt it too – this giddiness that put me at a loss for words – and I wanted to hold on to that feeling, to share it. I mean, I knew our date would be fun, because we always had fun together, but this had been something beyond our typical Saturdays out. This had been fun and intimate and private. The way we forgot about the restaurant around us at dinner, and the way his arms felt around me during the movie. Even how he'd brought me to the touch tank, despite how gross he thought it was. When I was with him I felt so carefree and adored, I just wanted wrap myself up in him so tightly that he never let me go.

Even thinking about it all was overwhelming, so I just said, "I'm really happy too, with you."

His eyes snapped open and he grinned unabashedly, that same crooked grin that made my heart speed up.

I looked into his eyes, hoping to encourage his happiness. "You're beautiful when you smile like that."

His grin turned bashful, but he quickly put his hand up to my own neck and pulled me in for a lengthy, heartfelt kiss. Our lips sealed together and our hands moved against each other's skin to the same cadence as our tongues.

When he pulled back he whispered, breathless and almost awed, "This is exactly what I wanted, to be like this with you."

I nodded and whispered back, "I think it's the best thing I've ever felt."

Then came the glint in his eyes, and when he kissed me again it was hungry and eager. We had gone from romance to lust in the span of a breath, but it didn't undermine either of the things we felt.

Just the idea of finally being able to touch him created a warm and pleasant pressure in my jeans. This wasn't the place to start any of the other things that felt so good, though, and I hoped that Jasper's 'better idea' would include someplace more opportune.

I cranked up the heat while Jas got back onto the highway. He kept both hands on the wheel to handle the rain, but I left a hand against his thigh, just to keep contact. We made idle talk about whether the zombies were actually scary, and the parts of the movie we'd liked best, but I think both of us were thinking about what we'd just said and what was about to come.

Only a few minutes went by before he turned off onto a secluded road along a cliff. The trees behind us and ocean before us instantly told me this was a popular make-out spot. That's my man. It looks like he did some googling of his own.

Once he shifted into park, I had no hesitations about leaning over to kiss him soundly. He responded eagerly, reaching up to twine his fingers in my hair and angling his head to kiss me as deeply as possible. As much as I loved his hands on me, it was nothing compared to when his lips found that spot on my neck again. He'd discovered it and what it did to me about a week ago, and it still left me at his mercy. I groaned quietly, and moved my lips to trace along his neck too.

"Edward."

"Mm-hmm," I said against his skin.

I pulled him to me, trying to get at much of our bodies touching as possible, but it was nearly impossible with the center console between us. After a few minutes Jas pulled away, breathless and unfocused.

"Push your seat back," he ordered.

Then, without another word, he pushed open his door and launched himself out in the rain. I did as he asked; finding the little plastic button on the side of the chair that pushed the front seat as far back as it would go. Jas hurried around the front of the car before pulling my door open and jumping in.

It was a cramped fit, even with the extra room, but Jas pushed his shoulders up against the roof of Esme's Mercedes and slammed the door shut. He moved to straddle me, and I immediately reached to pull his thick coat off and to the side. Now that I had him alone, away from the roving eyes of Port Angeles, I wanted him as close and as naked as possible.

He helped by reaching behind him and pushing off the fabric that had bunched over his hands. His broad shoulders stretched back as he did, light against the dark of night, and it highlighted the tapering of his waist wonderfully.

"You look fantastic tonight," I said, enjoying how his pushed-back hair gave me a full view of his beautiful face. The way his eyes were trained on me made me feel coveted and sexy, and I could already feel myself straining against my zipper to reach him.

He tipped himself forward, hunching over me to cup my face in his hands. "So do you," he whispered against my lips, before I opened up to kiss him fully, tongue and all.

He tried to push my jacket off too, and it was a tough process until he reached under the seat to pull the latch that let us recline. After that, it was smooth sailing.

We sat up to pull our shirts off, dumping them all on the empty driver's seat, before Jas pushed my shoulders down onto the soft leather. Our lips and chests met, our happy trails rubbing against each other's as he sinuously rocked against me. I could feel each of his breaths into my mouth as his stomach bounced against mine. His legs ran along the seat, wider than mine, and he wasted no time in rocking his hips against my jeans.

I groaned, raking my fingers up his back. His skin was smooth and already hot under my touch, and I ran my hands up to the back of his arms. His hands were snaking up and down my chest, flicking at my nipples along the way, and his arms and shoulders flexed with each movement. They felt powerfully sexy under my touch.

He continued with his full body assault, working me into sensory-overdrive faster than I thought possible. I retaliated by trailing my lips across his neck, finding my way to that soft spot behind his ear. I licked at it softly, then with more pressure, before pulling the skin into my mouth and sucking on it.

"Edward," he whispered, and I continued the attention to his sensitive skin. He turned his head, out of my reach, and returned the favor. "You like that, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes," I panted.

Then he moved his lips to my ear and said, "It doesn't exactly feel the same for me."

"What?"

"I like it, I do. It just doesn't get to me like it does for you."

I stilled my hands on his back, feeling oddly chastised and embarrassed. I had just assumed, since it felt so good, that he'd like it just as much.

I was hesitant to make another move, in case I reached for another spot that didn't 'exactly feel the same'. Jas definitely didn't see a reason to stop, though, as he kept up his strokes across my chest and the rhythm of his hips.

That gave me an idea. Squeezing my hands between our chests, I rubbed my thumbs in tight little circles over his nipples, and he took in a sharp breath.

"Do you like that?"

He nodded, so I kept it up.

"Do you?"

"Not as much as other stuff," I said truthfully, so he moved his hands back up to my face.

Just as he was leaning down to kiss me again, I got the idea to add a little more pressure, pinching and rolling each of his nipples in my fingers.

Instead of bringing his lips to mine, he gasped and dropped his forehead against my shoulder.

"Holy fuck."

Not just fuck, but a Holy fuck. That was one for the books. Pride surged through me, so I did it once again for good measure.

His hips had started to press against me more insistently, and I was aching to relieve the pressure in my jeans. I had been hard since we got here, and I bet he had been too. I pushed my hand lower, searching for the button of his jeans, and brushed my fingers against the bulge in his pants.

He immediately pushed forward into my hand, panting, "Jesus, yes, touch me." He had become more vocal since we were first dating – not too much, but still enough to be incredibly sexy. I loved the sound of his deep voice telling me how my touch felt.

I wrapped my hand around his stiff bulge through his jeans, giving it a firm squeeze, and he whispered, "Please."

He didn't have to ask me twice. I quickly went to work lowering his fly. He soon took up the cause, unsnapping my button fly, and we pushed our jeans and boxers off to crumple at our feet. It was a shame I didn't get to linger on his boxer briefs, but they looked even better on the floor.

He laid back down against me, and when our straining erections met I sucked in a deep breath of air. We had worked ourselves up into quite a frenzy and I stilled him with my hand on his hips, afraid that I might come already.

He slipped a large hand between us, grabbing both our dicks in his hand, stroking them together. Worse, still, was the fact that I was watching. I could feel and see the heads rub against each other, each leaking precum that mingled and spread under his hand.

It was too much, and I shut my eyes against the throbbing sensation of it.

Jas began to trail kisses down my chest, starting from my jaw and working all the way down to my ribs. It was only when he shifted back to reach below my belly button that I opened my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, startled breathless by the sight of Jas kneeling between my legs, leaving wet kisses between my hipbones. I was instantly nervous, but Jas just continued working his way down to the top of my right thigh.

He pulled his hand away from my hard-on, rubbing it down the sensitive skin inside my leg. He moved to place soft kisses down to the underside of my thigh, watching me through his thick lashes as I watched him.

"Relax," he said quietly, replacing his mouth with his other hand as he centered himself between my legs.

Then, holding eye contact, he placed his long tongue at the base of my dick and licked upwards.

I got woozy from the rush of sensation.

Suddenly Jasper was reaching an outstretched palm up my body to rest it on my chest. "Breathe, Edward. I'll stop if you want me to, but you have to breathe."

I did, and while it was a relief it also brought back all my senses. The smell of our sweat, the heat of his hands against me, and the stickiness of my back against the leather seat – I could feel everything, and I knew I wouldn't last long.

Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he held it up away from my stomach, and gave a few more experimental licks. I was breathing heavily, trying to swallow all my moans. His tongue dipped into all the crevices, under the head and into the slit, and even breathing didn't stop the light-headedness.

When he reached up he slid his whole mouth over my dick, engulfing it down to his hand, and I couldn't stop my long moan. He kept his eyes on me as he pleasured me, and I was completely unable to look away. With one long sucking motion, he set my body quivering and my balls tightening. I grabbed Jas's muscular arm with one hand, and put the other one in my hair, trying to keep my breathing even. It was a lost cause.

He paused as he twirled his tongue around the head, glancing to my hand on his arm, but he seemed to know that I just needed something to hold onto. His free hand went up to my balls, where he cupped and tugged on them. I felt them tighten further, and when he pushed his mouth back down my dick, keeping his tongue firm against the underside, I knew I was done for.

"Oh no," I gasped, "I'm—" I groaned as my whole body throbbed, shooting jets of come into Jasper's mouth. My legs trembled, my toes curled and my vision blurred as my orgasm continued, sending bursts of pleasure through my body until even my fingertips tingled.

It wasn't until after I regained my breath that I managed to open my eyes and look down to Jasper.

He was still kneeling on the floor of car, turned away, looking like he was trying to swallow. There was some of my mess on his lips, and a glance to myself told me it was caught in my curly hairs and all the way up my stomach, too.

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching for him, and he forced himself to swallow. "I'm so sorry," I began again. "I tried to tell you, I'm really really sorry.

"It's okay," wiping off his chin with the back of his hand and looking back to me. "I knew you were about to, and I'd planned on it anyway. I didn't want to get it on my mom's car."

Ugh, Esme's car. I groaned, embarrassed.

"It's fine," he said. "The car's still clean, but I do think we got it everywhere else."

He snickered at our mess and I joined in. Everywhere else was right.

I reached for one of the undershirts we'd stripped off, and first used it to wipe the last of the stickiness off Jas's cheek. Then he took it from me, wiping his hands dry and running it down my stomach. I did the last bit of clean up on myself before crumpling the shirt up with the jizz on the inside, and then pulled Jas up into the seat.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled his knee up across my legs, laying beside me as I caught my breath. I trailed my fingers through his hair, ruining the hair gel that his sweat had already dissolved.

His body was lean against mine as our toes tangled together against the floor of the car, and I felt so relaxed. Here I was, with Jas in my arms, after the most amazing blow-job.

Jeez. Blow-job. I'd just gotten my first blow-job. Okay, so it was probably the shortest one in the history of the world, but still. Next time maybe I'd be able to hold my load better.

"I can't believe you did that," I said, awed.

"I can't believe we didn't get any on the car," he countered, and we both laughed again.

Hooking a finger under his chin, I tipped his face up to kiss him. He tasted different – like my spunk, I guess, all salty and bitter – but I didn't mind. I whispered a thank you and let my hand run down the smooth line of his skin, from his ribs all the way down to his waist, hip and thigh. He seemed to go on forever, my beautiful, lanky boyfriend.

I think he tried to tell me not to thank him, but I kissed him right through it, not willing to not be thankful.

I could feel his stiffness against my leg, hardening as I kissed him. I let my roaming hand drop off his hip to the tender skin between his hipbones, and he bucked slightly at the sudden touch. I let my hand slide slowly to the base of his dick before I gripped it and gave a firm stroke upwards, and he moaned throatily into my ear.

The sound was like liquid pride. He had such an effect on me, and I reveled in the fact that I could make him just as wanton. I stroked him a few more times, milky the pearly fluid from him and rubbing it across the head with my thumb. He was thrusting into my hand and mumbling in my ear, letting his thoughts bubble out. I strained to understand his words, knowing they would be dirty and sexy if I could.

Finally, when I shifted both hands to his package so that I could roll his sac around in my other hand, I caught a wisp of his words.

"…really good"

I wanted more than 'really good', though, and I knew what I had to do. I shifted, tugging Jasper's hip toward the chair, trying to move him under me. He obliged, never breaking his rhythm into my hand.

God, I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted to make him shake and gasp, and not just in the ways I had before.

I did exactly what he'd done, trailing kisses down his chest to reach his groin. I made sure to spend plenty of time sucking his nipples, which earned me a long, deep moan and a mumbled, "… mouth is amazing."

When I got to his bellybutton, Jas hooked his hand under my arms, stopping me. I looked up to him and he shook his head, but I continued on anyway.

"Edward," he said with thin breath, "stop. You don't have to."

But I wanted to, and I told him so. If Jas could do it for me, I could do it for him. I wanted to give back everything he gave to me and more, if I could.

I started at his knees, stroking and licking and kissing until he was moaning just from my attention to his thighs. They were soft and noticeably pale even in the moonlight, with short wavy hairs that brushed against my chin. I kissed his skin, nuzzling up against the base of his dick, and when I got there he cried out.

This time, the mumble was easy to make out.

I ran my nose up the underside before licking firmly under the head, and his entire body bucked.

"Edward!"

Hell yeah. I had every intention of making him yell that as many times as possible.

Jas actually lasted a little longer than I did, which gave me time to try a few things. I swirled the head in my mouth and flicked my tongue at his opening. When I sucked him in, swiping my tongue underneath it like I'd done to his finger in the theater, I felt and tasted the precum bubbling up. I even had time to rub his balls and press on the smooth skin behind them before he warned me he was going to come.

The warning helped some but, he was right, and there was no other option is Esme's car. I did my best to swallow his come, but I choked instead.

Tasting my jizz on Jas's tongue was nothing compared to this pungent taste in my mouth. I kept my lips wrapped about his dick while he came, moaning and groaning and praising my name. His hands tangled in my hair, gripping it in clumps just for something to hold on to. No matter how sexy his orgasm was, though, I couldn't get myself to swallow it all.

I thought briefly of spitting it out the window, but it was still pouring and I didn't want to be hanging topless out of a car, anyway.

My lack of options convinced me to just man up, and I pulled as much of it as I could down my throat. If nothing else, it was a relief not to have it sitting in my mouth anymore.

I looked up to see Jas looking down, his head lolling on the seat but watching me apologetically.

"That bad?" he asked, his chest still heaving. He was slicked with sweat from his hairline to his knees, and I took a moment to revel in the effect I had on him. The moonlight was an improvement over the usual darkness of our bedrooms, and I loved seem him all worked over like this. His chest rose and shuddered, showcasing the outline of each muscle of his chest and stomach, and his eyes were half-closed in satisfaction. He was a stunning specimen of masculinity and sexuality.

_Next time_, I told myself, _make sure to watch while he comes._ I was sure it was a sight to behold.

Wiping myself off with the other undershirt, I cleaned off my face and hands before seeing to him. Then I climbed up his body, taking care to be gentle with our sensitive anatomy, and laid directly over him. I wrapped my arms up around his neck as he slipped his around my waist and I basked in the post almost-coital glow of our evening.

I clung to him as he trailed his fingertips along my spine, all the way from my shoulder blades to the top of my ass. I focused on that feeling, and nothing else. I just felt so… content. Happy, too, but there was something about feeling so sated with my boyfriend that just made the entire world slip away. I had no cares, no wants, other than being here with him. It made my chest feel tight but my head feel loose, like I could drop all my responsibilities and still feel this overwhelmingly blessed.

Eventually, Jas whispered, "You didn't have to do that," but I gave his chest a gentle, half-hearted slap.

"I wanted to." Then I pushed off his sweaty chest to look him in the eye. "Making you happy makes me happy."

He looked as lazy and content as I felt. I guess getting head can do that do you.

It certainly was a night for firsts.

He pulled his head off the headrest to give me a sweet, languid kiss. Then he whispered, "Edward, I…"

I pulled back to see he face, wondering if he was still trying to work something out in his head.

His eyebrows were tense again, and I could see his tongue pressed up against his front teeth, just waiting to say the words his mind was mulling over.

I waited patiently, just smiling up at him, until he dropped his head back down. Then he swept his hands down my back, all the way to the curve under my butt to stroke the backs of my thighs. The touch excited me again.

"I love your body."

I hummed in appreciation, and watched my fingers trace the bulge of his bicep. "I wish I could bulk up a little, like you."

"No way," he said dismissively. To accentuate his meaning, he wrapped his hands over the cheeks of my butt and gave a firm squeeze. I had a runner's butt, so of course there was muscle there, but it still wasn't quite as nicely defined as Jasper's. "You're beautiful, just like this," he added.

Beautiful… wow. The word made me feel strong, sleek and desirable. "No one's ever called me that before."

He scoffed, and I felt the gust of air leave his lungs.

It was true, though. I'd never thought of myself as beautiful.

"Hmm," he mused. "I'm surprised I've never said that before."

"That's okay," I said, rubbing my cheek against his warm chest. "I don't think I tell you nearly as often as I think it."

I loved the idea of Jasper finding me that attractive, and I wriggled against his body. Our body heat was starting to evaporate, though, and stirring the air around us made me shiver. Instead of telling me to get up, which I'm not sure I would have done anyway, Jasper reached for our sweaters and laid them out along my naked body. It was only then that I remembered we were naked in a car many miles from home, but I couldn't bring myself to really care.

I couldn't believe our date was coming to an end but, then again, sometimes I couldn't believe it had taken three and a half years to get us here.

"Jas?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"How long have you known?"

"Known what?"

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, maybe it would break this blissful time-freeze we were in and bring the rest of our lives crashing back in, but it was only laying here in his arms that I felt **collected** enough to ask.

"That you were gay."

He sucked in a breath, maybe preparing words or maybe avoiding them, and for a few minutes it was completely silent except for the rain on the roof of the car.

Finally, right when I was about to tell him to just forget it, he spoke.

"I don't exactly know," he said slowly, trying the words out in his mouth like he was testing their accuracy. "I never understood what the big deal about girls was. I mean, to hear Ty tell it, the meaning of life comes in cup sizes."

I nodded against his chest. Tyler was obsessed.

"It had definitely occurred to me that maybe I would never understand the fuss, and I knew what that would mean. But I also thought being gay would feel different, you know?"

I hummed my agreement. That was a feeling I was intimately familiar with – it's strange to think you're different when you just feel like you.

"I was pretty much just waiting to meet someone I liked, but no one ever really measured up."

"Up to what?" I asked. What exactly was his golden standard?

Slipping his arms between our clothes and my back, he wrapped himself around me so that we had complete skin-on-skin contact. With his nose in my hair, he kissed the side of my face and whispered, "You."

That one word affected me physically, making me warm and elated, but also nervous. "So, you knew?"

"That's the thing, I didn't." He chuckled a few times, and I bounced with his rising chest. "I was pretty convinced that I was misinterpreting our friendship for more. I mean, you were my best friend, so of course no one could compare to you, right? But then, I started to… miss you."

"Miss me?" I didn't understand, I'd been living with him more often than not for years.

His broad palms began rubbing wide circuits along my back before he answered. "You'd go home, and I'd get so… antsy. I think Alice was staying at the Swan's a lot, so you were going home more instead, and I started getting this feeling whenever you walked out the door."

His hand pressed into my shoulder, but it didn't escape my notice that it was also directly over his heart.

"I guess one day it just clicked," he said into the open space of the car. "I literally saw it in my head, me grabbing your hand and asking you to stay. I felt this weird sense of… wanting, I guess. I knew it was ridiculous, because it was just another random day and I saw you all the damn time, but that didn't make it go away. So I just stood there, feeling miserable and thinking, this isn't just friendship."

I hated the thought of Jas feeling like shit, especially because of me, and pressed a kiss into the muscle I had made my pillow. Silently, I tried to remember any hints that he felt that way, but he must have hidden it well. Jas never seemed like he wanted more than I wanted to give. If he'd asked me to stay, I probably would have.

"When was this?" I asked.

His arms tightened around my chest as he said, "This summer."

Oddly enough, those words came as a relief. As flattering as it might have been for Jas to have some long history of adoring me, I hated the thought that he had found our friendship unfulfilling while I had been perfectly content.

My thoughts drifted to this summer. What had I thought about him, then?

"You know," I said, thinking out loud. "When I try to figure out when all this started – not when I knew, but when I started to want this without even knowing – I can't pinpoint it."

He sighed, a heavy, satisfied sigh that ruffled my sweaty hair and tickled my ear.

"Sometimes," he whispered, "I think it started long before either of us knew."

I nodded again, sliding my cheek against his still-sweaty chest, and then sunk my fingers into the flesh of his shoulders when I shivered again.

Jas sighed and shimmied the sweater higher up across our shoulders. "Do you want to head back?"

Despite how brisk the air was, I pushed myself up off his chest to give him my best pleading look. "Five more minutes?"

He smiled indulgently, sliding his lips across mine in a soft kiss. "Mmm, yes please."

I think he gave me ten.

* * *

.

**Thoughts, suspicions, or favorite lines? Leave a review :-)**

**If you're not familiar with the skanky Old Navy commercials (and I know some of you aren't) PM me and I'll link you to some. **

**Mega-thanks to my beta Elvelethril, who listened to all my ideas so I could finish this chapter properly. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

What makes someone gay? Was it liking guys, or not liking girls? Was it wanting to see Jas naked, or was it that moment when he rested his head on my shoulder and I got all tight in a way that has nothing to do with him naked? I mean, I got over-excited about Jasper for all sorts of reasons, so that question's pretty much moot anyway.

Where did girls fit into all this? I'd always assumed I just hadn't met the right one, but now how was I supposed to know if I liked being with girls if I'd never even tried? Then again, the idea of trying was just boring. I couldn't really see the appeal. When Jas kissed me it felt like I had to close my eyes or I'd go into sensory overload, like he could reach every cell in my body with only his lips on mine. When Lauren had kissed me I'd felt… nothing. I'd felt her teeth clacking against mine, really, but that was about it.

If it wasn't Jas, would it have been someone else? It had to be, right? Just because I hadn't dated much before didn't mean I would be celibate forever. I had to have a preference, eventually. I couldn't really think of any other guys I thought were hot off the top of my head but, then again, Jas used to poke fun at me for liking those Abercrombie cologne ads. Especially since I never wore cologne.

I wondered what made me this way. Was it just my genes? Or was it because of all that more complicated epigenetic stuff – like fetal testosterone levels, or maybe lots of people had a gene somewhere that could make them gay, but mine was just fully active? Did liking guys have anything to do with being a late bloomer?

I nixed that idea as fast as I thought it, because Tyler's voice hadn't dropped until last year, but he was still a boob-man through and through.

The real question was, where do you draw the line? Was it being attracted to a total stranger with a great ass? Was it being able to look your parents in the eyes and announce it? Was it being able to tell your friends, or your school? Fuck, why did it have to involve anyone else? On a tiny little island with just me and Jasper, there'd be no need for words like gay or straight or homophobia or hazing.

I think it was the word gay that scared me more than anything. I couldn't pretend I was straight, obviously, but being gay just carried so many connotations. Bad connotations. Like leering at everyone in the locker room, and getting the shit kicked out of you. Like having everyone point and stare and gossip as the rumor mill chewed you up and spit you out onto a high school quad, nervous and exposed.

I remembered all the blatant stares and none-too-quiet whispers from when my mom had died, and there were some days that, if Jas hadn't been there, I might have just stayed home. And now, if people knew we were dating, he'd be under as much scrutiny as I would. Who knew how people would really react? Forks was a pinprick of a town, nearly bored to death by its own existence and hungry for any new drama.

Sometimes, I wondered what Esme and Carlisle thought when they weren't putting on brave faces. I knew they meant it when they said they supported us, but did Esme ever wish he'd brought home a nice girl instead? Was Carlisle upset that, without Jas, the Cullen name would come to an end? Hadn't he even said he wouldn't wish this life for us?

Damnit. Things with me and Jas were simple – it was factoring in everyone else that was made me want to crawl in bed and sleep for days. Everything felt so damned complicated.

All I knew was that I liked him, really really liked him, to the point where it was kind of overwhelming sometimes. Like the night before. Watching him kneel between my knees in the car was maybe the most dizzyingly exciting thing ever, but what I kept rethinking was what came after. Lying against his chest, all skin-to-skin and tangled up together, I didn't think I could ever let go. I wanted to melt like a pat of butter just so I could slip over every bare inch, practically fusing myself into him, impossible to wipe away. It was, I think, the most intense thing I'd ever felt, and I just wanted to be closer…

A sharp elbow-to-rib nudge pulled me from my musings, and I looked up to see Jas watching me.

"Your oatmeal's cold," he said, clearly amused by my mental absence from breakfast.

I glanced down to where I was still holding a spoon upright in the cereal, kind of disappointed that he was right. It was full of milk and raisins and cinnamon and delicious, and I'd let it get cold and slimy. Damn.

I stared at the congealing lump on the spoon before I pushed the whole bowl away.

"And you're doing that thing again," he added, keeping his tone light.

I smiled a little, because he was right and because, sure, I was ranting to myself in my head, but there are worse things to silently obsess over than how much you adore your boyfriend. Plus, it's hard to get truly worked up when you're still basking in the afterglow.

That feeling I got in the car – I'm not sure what it was, but it hadn't gone away overnight. And judging from the way Jas's calf was pressed up against mine all through breakfast, he was still basking in it too.

I lifted my head to smile more convincingly at him while he stood, just so he wouldn't think I was sitting there brooding or something. The smile he threw back was so bashfully bright that it made me all glowy again, and I stopped worrying about labels and opinions and how gay or not-gay I was. I was happy with Jasper, and that was what mattered.

Before I could do something indulgent, like grabbing his arm, pulling him into my lap and kissing him for the next hour, the clack of Esme's shoes in the hallway told me to keep my hands to myself.

She had waited up for us last night, to make sure we got home safely and, probably, to make sure we went to our own rooms. That was okay, though, because we'd had a lengthy and drawn-out goodnight kiss after she'd gone up to bed.

"Good afternoon," she said, with emphasis like we didn't already know we'd slept through the morning.

Jas just rolled his eyes but I said, "Hi, Esme."

She set about pulling all the makings of a turkey sandwich out of the fridge, so we rinsed out our bowls in the sink to make room on the center island. Just as we headed out through the attached dining room, though, Esme called me back in.

I looked at Jas first, who nodded toward his room where I knew he'd be waiting for me, and then stepped back into the kitchen.

"What's up?" I said, pushing my floppy hair back from in front of my eyes. I really needed a haircut.

She patted a hand on the granite counter beside her, so I hopped a little warily onto a stool beside it. I wasn't quite sure what she would want to talk to me about, especially if it was something she hadn't wanted to bring up as soon as she'd walked in.

The look on her face while she spread Lite Mayo onto bread was oddly serious, until she put her knife down and said, "Charlie called."

Just like that, my morning glow disappeared, and I sagged on my seat. I could guess what he had called about, and it wasn't something I wanted to get into. Really, though, I guessed I should be grateful that I got a whole day's reprieve from thinking about it.

All I said was, "Oh."

"Charlie said you and Alice had a fight," Esme said with a questioning upturn to her words, and when I looked up her eyes were doing the concerned motherly thing.

I really didn't want to talk about it, but this was Esme and I knew she was just asking because she hoped she could help. She couldn't, though, I was sure about that. And I didn't really want to explain how I'd fucked things up even farther by upsetting my sister and then alienating her best friend.

Except, Esme had her hands clasped on the cold granite in front of her, and she was leaning forward to listen so intently that I just couldn't brush her off. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, "Yeah. Sorta. I mean, not a fight, but she got upset. And then," I paused – cringing at the memory even as I said it, "then Bella figured out about Jas and me."

"Oh," Esme said, making a sympathetic clucking noise and pressing one hand to her chest. "Poor Bella."

I managed not to roll my eyes – at myself, really – because of course Esme would know about Bella's crush. Jas had to get his crazy observational skills and insight from somewhere. I did push myself away from the counter, though, to avoid her intense, knowing expression.

"Yeah," I muttered, not really knowing what else to say. "She's not mad though, which is good."

Esme nodded sympathetically, seeming to think it over. "So Alice knows too?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"Hmm. Charlie didn't mention that, though I'm not sure he would."

God, if Charlie knew… even the possibility put me on edge. As if things at the Swans' didn't already make me uncomfortable enough.

Esme reached out across the countertop, putting one warm hand across my knuckles and patting them. "Charlie's a good man," she said softly, though that didn't really answer or appease any of the questions in my head.

Gradually, she began to tell me about Charlie's phone call. It had apparently been yesterday morning, before Jas and I left. Esme hadn't wanted to ruin our day, and I was torn between being grateful for our perfect day and annoyed that I was kept in the dark. Charlie's conversation with Esme made it clear that Alice had filled him in on at least some of our last talk. The point that really got drilled home, though, was that Alice wanted to join the Swans permanently. She still didn't want to be a Masen, or a Bailey, or anything else that had to do with me.

Esme was wonderfully patient as she explained everything, including why she felt Charlie was the best candidate to vie for guardianship and everything he would do to make sure things went smoothly. They both seemed to think the single-parent issue wouldn't stand in his way too much, and I believed them. Whether or not Charlie could get guardianship wasn't really the concern here. The problem was the way Esme kept issuing warm promises that they would take care of everything. I figured she was trying to lighten my load, or something, but it just felt like every connection I had to Alice was slowly being scraped away.

I tried to nod and smile at Esme as she promised to shoulder my burden, knowing that I should be grateful, but it just brought up the same feelings of uselessness and incompetency I'd been carrying all along. Somehow, by doing everything I could think of to keep what was left of the Masens together, I had let us fall drastically and maybe even irrevocably apart. It was hard to believe that at one point I'd thought I could keep everything under control, because this was so very, very out of my control.

One of Esme's 'pro's was that I could get away for college, which made me feel shitty in all sorts of ways, but she caught onto that pretty quickly.

"There's nothing wrong with going away for college, Edward," she said, exhibiting that same calm that used to make me want to shake Jasper. "Alice wants you to have every opportunity, just like you want for her. She wouldn't want you to give up Princeton."

I remembered the Class of 2014 scarf Alice had given me and thought that maybe she was right, about the old Alice. This new Alice didn't give a shit what I did with myself.

Still, though, I let Esme segue the conversation into colleges, as she politely asked which ones made the final list. She had been on top of all of Jas's deadlines when he applied to Cornell, and I had a hunch she asked because she wanted to keep track of mine too. I'd had no idea how she would react when I told her I would also be applying to Cornell, but she just seemed to take it in stride, smiling in a more genuine way and nodding for me to continue the list. She showed no sign of questioning my following Jas to school but, then again, Esme rarely thought the worst of people. She, like Jas, could look into a person's face and see their private logic, which just made her understanding and sympathetic.

Finally, with a fortifying smile and an ambitious bite into her tepid sandwich, she let me head into the back of the house to find Jas.

Apparently I'd been talking to Esme so long, he'd opted to shower. And while the temptation to join him or at least spy was incredibly appealing, the open-door policy and attentive parents meant we probably couldn't get away with it.

I sighed, pushing my hair back again as I got to my bedroom and left the door ajar.

So, I had lost Alice, maybe entirely, but I mentally kicked myself and thought that I probably should have known that already. She had all but disappeared over the last month or so and, now, Bella probably had too. It sort of made me ache to think about it, but I was almost getting to the point where I knew I had to just accept it.

Well, not accept it. I still wanted Alice in my life, damnit, but maybe I wouldn't go charging into the Swans' house thinking I could fix things anymore.

Especially now that Charlie might know about me and Jas. That just… that wasn't the type of relationship I had with him. I'd worked hard to cultivate a mutual respect, where he could trust me to be responsible and mature, and I could trust him to look after Alice. I never wanted who I did or didn't date to enter into that. And if he found out about Jas, well, I just couldn't see how that wouldn't color his opinion of me, one way or the other.

Yet another thing that was going to change.

Dropping onto my bed with a creak of mattress springs, I took a deep breath and flipped open my computer.

The next two weeks went pretty much as usual – or, well, the new usual. Jas and I drove to school alone and devoted our time to homework – college apps for me – track, and each other, though no one seemed to suspect about that last one. I never saw Alice anymore, and Bella popped up a few times, but only ever spoke to Jasper. Rosalie was rarely around, opting to eat dinner at the McCarty's several nights a week, despite Carlisle's early insistence that she not. Jas and I continued to sneak after-hours rendezvous, even if a lot of our uncensored alone time was just used for all those quiet words and little touches we'd had to hold back during the day.

Monday morning was overcast and bleak, just because it'd be terribly off-putting to start the week with a few rays of sun. Jas and I were half asleep from staying up too late and I practically snored through history – I just couldn't match his enthusiasm for it. It wasn't until I detoured to grab a binder from my locker that I noticed the bright posters splashed up in the poorly-lit hallway. It was confusing, with a huge donkey head sticking out from behind a tiny girl with colorful moth wings photoshopped onto her back, and an elegant but day-glow fuchsia flower taking up the whole bottom right corner.

I stopped to stare at the poster, trying to make sense of the random images for a full minute before I finally read the scrawl across the bottom.

Forks High School Proudly Presents:

William Shakespeare's

**A Midsummer Night's Dream**

Then it all made sense, of course, because only Shakespeare would put a fairy and a donkey on the same stage. Plus, I think I saw bits and pieces of it once when we had an English sub in eighth grade.

Of course the play would be coming up… Ali's play, even if she wouldn't technically be in it. I felt kind of pathetic for wanting to see a play just because my estranged sister had painted the backdrop, but I wanted to all the same. Maybe she wasn't in my life anymore, but that didn't mean I wanted to lose track of hers.

As soon as I saw Jas outside the gym, I brought it up, falling into step with him.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked casually.

I grunted. "S'on after Thanksgiving."

He looked at me sideways, maybe wondering why I was being so coy about it all, but the truth was I didn't really know. I just didn't want to sound too pathetic, I guess. It wasn't like seeing her play would change anything. If anything, going just to see her scenery made me sound a little stalker-ish, so I didn't want to make too big a deal out of it.

"So," he hedged, "you want to see it?"

I nodded, meeting his gaze.

"Okay, then. Let's get tickets."

I nodded again, more than willing to comply, and I knew that was one of the things I loved about Jas. He just made everything so easy.

I waited until Wednesday to bring money for the tickets, just to prove to myself that I could wait. The flyer had said tickets would be sold in the drama room during lunch and after school, so I decided to veer through the A building on my way to track while Jas went ahead. I was edgy as I walked up there, insisting to myself that this was no big deal, while secretly curious if I would be able to recognize any of Alice's influence in the backdrops.

The first thing I noticed was the progress they'd made. What had once been a bunch of wooden panels and buckets of paint was now a forest – or, three parts of a forest, up on the tiny stage, with chairs and backpacks and a drop cloth in between. It was actually really impressive how dense the trees looked in each piece, and I wondered if any of it was Ali's handiwork. There didn't seem to be anyone around to work on it, though, so I couldn't really tell.

Then a grunt alerted me to the one person in the room: that asshole, Seth Clearwater. He was sitting behind a dinky little table with poster board taped to the edge that listed ticket prices and show times, and he was glaring at me. I had no desire to talk to him, so I pulled out the cash and held it up. There wasn't anyone else around, so I didn't see why we couldn't just have a civil, silent exchange. He seemed to be focusing all his energy on staring at me, though, because he wouldn't take the money. I jabbed it out towards him, but he just flicked his eyes over it disdainfully.

Eventually, he lifted his eyes to curse me into a hell dimension – or whatever he thought he would accomplish with that glare – and said, "What the hell are you doing?"

Dumbass. I was even holding exact change.

"What does it look like?"

"I won't give you tickets."

Okay, this dickhead was starting to really piss me off. Unfortunately for me, I was gonna be late for track and I just wanted to walk away and forget about his existence as fast as possible.

"I'll get some either way. Just give me the damn tickets."

He leaned back in his metal folding chair, crossing his arms and looking pissed off, but still too skinny to be really intimidating.

"I'm not gonna let you near her."

"She's not even in it," I shot back, starting to get really aggravated. I was trying to just casually pick up tickets, but now I had to practically fight to see Ali not-act in this play.

He shrugged, which just made me want to yell. I didn't, though, I just grit my teeth and said, "You know, I'm getting really sick of your shit."

"Oh yeah?" He leaned back towards me, propping his elbows up the table and holding his death-stare. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

I balled my fists and narrowed my eyes, thinking about all the things I really would like to do to this arrogant prick, but said nothing. He seemed dead set on tempting me, though.

He raised his eyebrows in fake fear and said, "You gonna hit me?"

I dropped my fists onto the table, leaning on my knuckles like a gorilla would, and glared right back. I was getting really fucking angry, and didn't like being jerked around.

"I'm gonna get those tickets, is what I'm gonna do."

"I don't know," he said, whispering low and still acting like a shit, "I think you might have to hit me first."

At that point, I figured he wanted me to hit him. I didn't know why he'd go picking a fight, maybe he was some over possessive prick of a boyfriend or something, but I was starting to seriously considering giving in.

"Or are you just chicken shit?" he asked with audible venom. "Maybe you only hit girls, is that it?"

Tiny wisps of confusion started clouding in around the anger and I leaned back, slightly wary. What the fuck was he talking about?

He stood slowly, getting into as much of my personal space as possible, and said, "You will never touch her again."

That's when alarm bells really started going off. Touch her? Hitting girls? What the… what did he think I'd done? The confusion sank down into my stomach, making me feel a little queasy.

I felt his hand curl into my collar as he stepped around the table, but I stayed rooted to the spot. I didn't want to move, not until I knew what was going on. He didn't seem to like that though, because he yelled out "Hey!" and yanked me towards the door.

I let him. My brain felt kind of fuzzy, and I couldn't really summon the urge to fight anymore. As he dragged me out, I heard a sharp voice call out, and then Seth was saying to stay inside, just stay inside.

Hitting girls? Eerie realization licked through my veins, making them shivering wet and cold, until it finally hit with the sheer horror of the truth.

Seth thought I was hitting Alice.

I turned to look for her, to find her and beg for some answers or, hell, even for her to acknowledge me, and I realized that she was the one Seth had been talking to, because she was suddenly standing around the corner from the drama room with us.

"Just stay inside," Seth was saying, "I got this."

He was standing between us, keeping Alice behind his back, but I could still see her face. She looked just as confused as I felt, but when her eyes whipped to me they were sharp and accusing.

"What did you do?"

It had been years since I felt as small as I did in that moment. I felt entirely powerless, and I just didn't understand. Why? Why would Alice tell him those awful things? Why would she lie?

"What did you do?" I asked back, but my voice sounded high and unsteady even in my own ears, and my knees were asking me to sit down somewhere.

Seth told her again to just go inside, but I couldn't let her leave, not without some kind of explanation. This was cruel, even for the frigid person she had become.

"Why?" I called out. "Why did you tell him I—" I dropped my voice, to finish, "hit you."

Her eyes went wide and her fingers curled up, picking and tapping against her own cuticles. I could see her eyes dart between the two of us anxiously, but she said nothing. I stared at her, all cropped black hair and heavy eyeliner and amber eyes, waiting for some glimpse of the Alice I knew, the Alice that would never say that.

She turned her head more exaggeratedly between me and Seth, before looking back to me and saying, in a monotonous, empty tone, "I never said that." She looked up to Seth, then, and I did too as she repeated, "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," he said, keeping an arm out between the two of us, but turning to see her.

"Ali?" I asked cautiously.

"Why would you think that?" Her little chin was tipped up to Seth, and, gratefully, I heard the disbelief in her voice.

"It's the only thing that made sense," he answered, still bitter but persuasive, like he was just trying to remind her. "I asked you."

Alice leaned back, wary, and crossed her arms. Seth turned to face her more, but still didn't give up the ground between us.

"I saw that huge handprint on your arm, Alice. It was obvious. I asked if your brother knew, remember?" He was speaking urgently, leaning down to confide in her in private, but I strained to catch every word. "You said he was there."

My mind hummed with every way in that wasn't true, but I knew it didn't matter. If I'd learned one thing over the past month, it was that even the things I was sure of could be interpreted differently.

Seth put an arm out to touch her, comfort her, and it was with a sick sense of relief that I watched her pull back.

She crossed her arms, wrapping her pale fingers around the sleeves of her worn black t-shirt, and whispered back, "I never said he hit me."

Seth ignored me entirely, then, still speaking too quickly and too desperately. "But you never said anything else. What was I supposed to think? All I knew was that someone hurt you, and every morning you'd get out of his car looking miserable and freaked out. And someone," he jerked his head back toward me, "has a ridiculous temper."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but a little blonde girl I recognized as a tenth grader passed by, and we all dropped our heads and our voices until she passed.

It was ridiculous, but I could see how Seth would cast me as a villain. I wanted to defend my temper with a petty jibe about how he started it first, but knew my words held about zero weight at the moment. Also, I wondered if Alice would just bolt.

I leaned around Seth, trying to implore Alice to stay and absolve me, to explain – explain everything – and put things right again. I could see her fingers working double time on her brittle nails, and I just wanted to grab them and hold them still.

I took a moment to squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, trying to will myself calmer.

When I looked up again, Seth had backed up to stare at his own shoelaces and Alice was chewing on her lip, looking nauseous.

"Alice," I said quietly, trying not to spook her. The fact that she'd hung around this long – and for an argument, no less – was more than I'd thought I'd get from her. Part of me wondered if I should be thankful she stuck around to clear my name, and then the rest of me bristled at how fucked up this whole situation had gotten. "Alice, what's going on? How could you let Seth think—" God, I didn't want to say it again.

"I didn't know he thought that," she protested, and Seth started shifting his weight, looking a little affronted.

"That's 'cause you never let me bring it up."

I watched as they had a silent eye-contact conversation across the gap of their height difference, and I guessed he still felt a little indignant because he added an exasperated, "I can't even mention your family without you clamming up."

He seemed to win the point because she looked away first. It caught me off guard to think that she wasn't confiding in her boyfriend. I'd always assumed that they'd bonded over their lost parents and that Seth had replaced me as a shoulder to cry on. Apparently, though, Alice wasn't sharing with anyone, and that just wasn't working.

"Alice," I said again. "What's going on?"

"Why?" she asked, jutting her chin out defiantly.

That struck a nerve, and even though I was still overwhelmed by the tight, anxious feeling in my chest, I was also pretty fed up.

"Because you can't let people think I would do that," I said, not bothering to keep the frustration and betrayal out of my voice. "What if he told someone?"

In the beat that followed, the complete absence of Seth's denial resonated through my head, and that sickly feeling came back. Oh god…

"Alice," I said, feeling even more desperate, wanting to reach out and shake some reality into her. "This town is a rumor mill. If the judge heard that, who knows if he'd stick you with Charlie. He might just send you away altogether." _Or me_, the thought came unbidden.

The way she was chewing on her lip looked downright painful. I could see her getting even more wound up, but mostly I was just glad she finally got the gravity of the damn situation.

She was shaking her head, though, and her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "No," she said softly, "no. I won't let him. I'll just tell him the truth."

That would be a first. She still didn't get it though, and I was fighting the urge to pace. "What if he doesn't believe you?"

As she looked up at me through wet lashes, she didn't sound so defiant or self-assured anymore. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Because you've already spent all this time swearing it wasn't Dad!"

That cut through any remaining bravado on her face. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly but, for once, she didn't have a way to defend herself. Her eyes flickered over me, and I thought for a moment that she might actually apologize. When the first tear rolled across her cheek, though, she just stepped over to Seth and pressed herself intimately against him. She looked so petite, craning her neck up to see him, and her voice sounded even smaller.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

He shifted back uncomfortably, bumping against the hallway lockers. "No, not really."

That failed to inspire any confidence whatsoever, so I said, "What does not really mean?"

He stalled, tapping his knuckles in a rhythm on the locker behind him and making a metallic rattling sound.

"I tried. I tried to tell Jake, but it didn't work. All I said was that you had a temper," he threw me a sharp look, "and he wanted to find you and teach you a lesson. I guess he's still pissed 'cause you won some dash."

Finally, a piece of information I already knew.

"But that's all you said?"Alice asked hopefully while I calculated how much damage control I would need to do.

"Yeah. I talked him down, 'cause I thought your brother might get pissed and…" he looked away from both of us, "take it out on you."

Jesus, I didn't even know how to react to that. All this blame and uncertainty was making my head pound.

When Alice's hand reached out to grab his, more pulling herself against him than actually moving her towering boyfriend, they stared at each other with matching concern. They each raised their eyebrows and twitched their lips and I knew they were both gauging each other, communicating in some silent way I wouldn't understand.

Feeling pretty awkward, it was only half reluctantly that I gave them a moment of privacy when the skinny kid raised his head to ask for it.

I wandered down the hallway a little, kicking at the fake plastic tiling and wanting to rest my head. I could hear it pouring buckets outside, and there wasn't really any other place to go, so I leaned against a stretch of yellow stucco and let myself slump to the floor, thinking.

The most ludicrous thing of all was that he'd been spending all this time worrying about how violent or unstable or purely evil I could be when, really, I just wanted to know my baby sister again. It was also strange to think that this asshole – or, Seth, as I guessed I should think of him now – wanted the same thing as me. He just didn't have all the facts.

And all of this could have been so easily avoided, if Alice had just opened her damn mouth and talk to someone, anyone. It could've been that walking growth spurt for all I cared, but the reality of the situation – of how close her temper had actually come to darkening my own future – was really starting to set in. Thank god Seth was just as in over his head as I was. If he'd been older, or known what he was doing a little more, he would have gone to someone a hell of a lot more useful than Jacob Black, and then where would I be?

I was damned lucky Seth hadn't told anyone else but, really, that wasn't luck I should have needed. My sense of self-preservation was starting to kick in, and it was yelling a constant 'what the fuck?' behind all my other thoughts.

I knew it wasn't directly Alice's fault, but all the uncertainty and grief and false fucking accusations slinging around came directly from her lack of communication. I should've known – it was, after all, another patented Masen family trait. If nothing else, she had just been so damned careless.

By the time Alice tiptoed over to me, looking contrite and sheepish, all the repentance in the world wouldn't stop the anger simmering in my chest.

I let her slide down the wall a few feet from me before I pinned her with an unimpressed glare. It was probably good Seth that let us be, because my temper was definitely showing, and I needed to get this out.

"What the hell, Alice?"

"I didn't know he thought that," she said a little frantically, like that was some kind of excuse.

"That's not the point! The point is, he did. You won't talk about it, but you're still taking it out on everyone and making us think the worse."

She pulled her knees up, hugging them for support until she could rest her chin on one, and staring at the bank of lockers facing us. I could see tension arcing through her entire body, though.

"Charlie would've never believed him," she said quietly.

It smoothed over the rawest edge of my ire to know that she was right, but that didn't change much. I clapped a hand over my eyes, dragging it down my face stiffly until I felt marginally more focused. As I talked, though, I started to get worked up again.

"I know, but things could have gone to shit before he even heard. I mean, fuck, it's no wonder Seth thought that. You won't talk to me. You won't talk about me, apparently." I flicked my hands around like all that was no big deal.

"Maybe I would talk to you," she bit out, "if you could talk about anything else."

"I wasn't trying to bring it up," I said, exasperated and gesticulating pointedly.

"Yes you were," she shot back, lifting her head.

"I wasn't."

"You always had this look, like you wanted to get me alone. To talk. Every time I saw you, I knew, and then I had to think about it all over again."

I didn't say anything, just thought about how wrong she was.

"Why can't you get that I don't want to think about it?"

I dropped a hand to fall on the hard floor beside me with a clap, and sighed. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

She was watching me carefully, clearly skeptical. "What, then?"

"It doesn't matter now," I said. Now wasn't the time to bring up Jas, or how I wished she'd been a little more understanding herself.

Besides, her avoidance wasn't even the biggest issue anymore.

"Why…" I paused, willing myself to just form the words. I focused my eyes on the scuff marks on the floor, but asked, "Why don't you want to be family anymore?"

I think I felt, if not heard, her tense posture deflate. "I never said I don't".

"Yeah?" I rolled my eyes extra hard and glanced at her. There were a lot of things she never technically said. "So dropping the Masen name doesn't mean anything?"

She tilted herself away, like seeing me from a different angle would change something, but kept a death grip around her legs. "I don't want his name. I—I thought you understood."

"I do," I said vehemently, "but I offered you something else. Anything else. And I don't understand why you won't just take Mom's name."

"No," she said faintly, shaking her head and making the tears that were suddenly back fall haphazardly onto her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her knees up tighter like she was trying to fold in on herself. "No, I can't."

I refused to be sidetracked by more tears. "Why? Why won't you be a Bailey?"

Her wide, off-color eyes snapped to mine and her voice was almost unrecognizably rough when she cried, "Because that's why he hit me!"

I couldn't help it, a sense of dread rushed over me. I mean, we had basically been talking about it this whole time, but we'd never actually said it. She'd never really admitted it… ever. But now she had.

Which meant that he had… fuck, I already knew it, but it was still shocking to actually hear. It made my whole chest ache with sympathy and a need for justice, except there was none to be had – just the pieces of our broken family, left behind, trying to make sense of it all.

Ali was crying through clenched eyes, hugging herself and staying very, very still. I reached out, fueled by that timeworn need to make it all better, but didn't know how to fix it this time.

"Ali? Ali, that's not why."

"It is," she whispered, still blocking herself in with her eyelids. "If I didn't look like Mom—"

"I love that you look like Mom," I cut in.

"No." Her head shook minutely. "He hates it. That's why he, why he hates me, and had to—"

"No," I interrupted again. I didn't really know what to say, but I knew everything about what she was saying was wrong. And somehow, even after all this crap, it was still my job as her big brother to help.

Crawling over to her, I tried to weave my hands into hers, but they were clenched too tightly around her calves. "He didn't have to do a damn thing, Ali. He fucked up, but that is not your fault." She refused to open her eyes or loosen her hands so I shook her knee gently and asked, "Do you hear me? It's not your fault."

Only then did her eyes open, but they looked so anguished that it didn't really bring relief. I watched her, trying my best to look calm and understanding and waiting patiently for her to say something. She didn't, but she finally let me grab her hands and pull her against my chest. I kind of wanted to pull her into a classroom where she could work this out in private, but no one had walked by this little corner of a dead end hallway for a while and I was hesitant to disturb her.

It was impossible to be mad at her now, even though we hadn't really said everything that needed to be said. Now that both Seth and I knew what was going on, though, I hoped that the worst was behind us. It felt like it was.

She cried dark stains into my shirt until she was only sniffling, and then finally began to talk. By the time she had composed herself, I'd heard most of the drama students filter out the opposite way and we were able to sit in the dusty hallway with no fear of being interrupted.

After some gentle prodding she filled me in on what had happened that last night Dad was in town, only she actually told me everything. The unnerving thing was, she really hadn't left much out the first time, other than when Dad had actually hit her. It just hadn't clicked before that she would blame herself. I still didn't understand how she could feel responsible for her hair or eye color, or for Dad's fucked up inability to cope, but I hugged her all the same. This time, when she mumbled about not wanting to be a Masen or a Bailey, or even be herself anymore, I just hugged her fiercely and told her that I loved her, no matter what. I told her that it wasn't her fault more times than I could count, and even though I didn't know how much she believed me, at least it had been said. A lot.

I even got her to tell me – to promise – that Dad hadn't hurt her before that night. His typical acerbic mood had gotten worse, sure, but she swore that was the only time I didn't already know about.

Finally, when both of us were slumped against the lockers and her legs were sprawled untidily across the hallway, I came to the conclusion that we had talked ourselves out. Things weren't fixed, but at least they made more sense and everybody was on the same page. _Really_, I thought, _at least Ali is talking to me. _We may not have regained that easy trump-all Masen bond, but after wading through all the muck of the afternoon, things at least seemed better.

Eventually the tired conversation meandered onto the play, mostly because it was an easy topic and it made her perk up visibly. I got her blessing to come see the show, but she insisted I come on closing night because of something to do with stage presence and technical bugs and whatever else.

Sooner than I thought possible, Jas came hurrying around the corner, still wet from his shower and probably the rain too. Damn, it was good to see him.

In the pecking order of comfort, I knew that he'd be willing to wrap me up and calm me down like I would do for Alice – and for him too, of course, it's not like I wouldn't. He just didn't seem to need comfort very often.

Jas stopped when he saw us, and eyed us both very cautiously – probably looking for signs that we were mid-breakdown. I nodded for him to come closer and he did, gripping his backpack straps and hoisting it higher on his back.

"Seth told me where to find you," he said, obviously bewildered by that unlikely source.

I just nodded again, mulling over where to even start. He held a hand out to help me up, and then I offered the same to Alice. Jas was even further bewildered when Ali wrapped an arm around my waist for a little sideways hug, but the tiniest quirk of a smile told me he was starting to figure it out. Not that he could ever guess the real story, but I'd fill him in.

As Ali slipped away I caught her hand, asking, "I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah," she nodded, giving me a vague, if tired, smile. "You can buy tickets from me later."

I watched her disappear around the corner before looking back to Jas, who had a little smile for me.

If he was already done and showered that meant it was past five o'clock, and I marveled at how three hours had gone by in a flurry of worries and words. They had been a hard three hours but still, all things considered, they had passed with little lasting damage.

Jas was doing that intimate-but-public thing he did where he stepped right up to me and trailed his fingers over the back of my hand. I caught a finger and squeezed it, not even bothering to look down.

"I'm glad you're here."

"I sent you a whole bunch of texts," he said, scrunching up his eyebrows.

"Oh," I said, patting down my pockets. "Was Coach mad?"

"Kinda, just 'cause he didn't believe I didn't know where you were."

"Sorry," I said, leaning towards him to bump his shoulder.

He shrugged, that little shoulder half-lift I was none too fond of, but studied my face. "Is everything okay?"

I pondered the definition of okay before saying, "It's… better."

"Did she apologize?" he asked, and his suddenly cold voice reminded me that he hadn't been as lenient about Alice's moods as I had. My anger usually passed quickly, like a hot flash bulb that was already fading even while it flared. Jas, for all his easy going smiles and determinedly neutral mannerisms, could hold a grudge. And I knew that once he found out about Seth's theory, he would definitely be mad.

"No," I said, shaking my head a little reluctantly.

He raised a dirty-blonde eyebrow, waiting for me to elaborate, but I was exhausted and stiff and tired of having important conversations in a dusty, secluded hallway.

"Come on," I said, tugging on his finger again, and giving him my best 'everything's okay' smile even though it wasn't entirely. "I wanna go home."

I swear that eyebrow stayed up the entire walk to the car. Even through the rain, he kept glancing at me, completely incredulous that I was asking more pointless questions about how mad Coach Clapp was. We were both warm and buckled into my car before I even thought about rehashing the whole afternoon.

I started off by saying I knew why Seth was such a prick, and got about halfway through my explanation before Jas exploded.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he demanded, looking way too tense to be caged up in my front seat.

I just pressed on though, hitting all the main details and making sure to point out that Ali had seemed just as blind-sided as me, and that she blamed herself for what Dad had done.

Jas had quite a bit to say on the complete waste of space that was Jacob Black, and even more to say on Ali's selfishness – and rant that didn't stop when I pulled into the driveway, so I left the engine on to keep us warm while we sat. He sympathized with her, of course, and agreed that it was important to help her pull away from her self-flagellation, but insisted it didn't excuse what she'd let happen.

I agreed with a lot of what he said, I really did, but getting angry just didn't seem like it would accomplish anything anymore.

"Edward," he said pointedly, pulling a knee up against the center console and turning to face me. "She shouldn't get away with this."

"What can I do?" I asked, waving an energetic hand around. "She knows this situation was all sorts of fucked up – and dangerous for both of us. Other than going back in time to prevent all this shit, what am I supposed to do?"

He pulled at the seams of his sweater, readjusting and getting comfortable.

Then, with a sigh that finally sounded as tired as I felt, he said, "Look. I know you're happy she's talking to you again, but you can't just pretend none of this ever happened. She owes you an apology – a massive one – but got away without one because she cried all over you instead."

"That's just how we are, Jas," I insisted. "You know that. That's just her going back to the way things used to be – which is what I want."

"I know," he said, eyes wide and earnest. "But she should earn it. Get her to say sorry."

"Okay," I said, reaching out to him. He looked unconvinced, like he thought I was just appeasing him.

And maybe I was, a little, but I also knew he had a point. Jas rarely had this kind of emphatic determinedness, and I trusted him to have my best interest at heart. It was a comforting thought, knowing that even though I'd let things slip through the cracks lately, he would be there to help me pick them up.

"Okay," I said again, curling my hand around his knee. He was warm, even through the thick denim and I stared at that one point of contact as I whispered, "Thanks."

"For what?" he asked, just as softly, as he reach up to trace the outline of my fingers. I could feel the scrape of his blunt nail against the side of my middle finger, and it seemed to resonate all the way up my arm.

For some reason, that feeling was back. The one where it seems like there's a magnet in my chest, a South tugging me toward Jasper's North. It came in a wave, nearly overwhelming me as I gripped harder onto his knee.

"For, you know," I said, when I could focus again, still not lifting my eyes. "Caring."

He moved over to my pointer finger. "Of course I care."

I nodded dumbly, unsure what to say back, but when I looked up I couldn't help but smile. It seemed like the most inappropriate time to be feeling all glowy over a few words and a little finger-touching, but I wasn't the only one. He was staring at our hands, trying to tug his lips out of the brilliant smile that was forming anyway, and it occurred to me that whatever this crazy feeling was, it seemed like he felt it too.

* * *

**Some stuff to point out:  
****The first ever Slash Awards are taking nominations til 2/28 at theslashawards . blogspot . com, and they have lots of fun categories, so head on over :P Also, ****the lovely Yogagal interviewed me for her guest spot on the So You Think You Can Write blog, which was lots of fun, so you can check that out if you want.  
**

**As far as this chapter goes, many thanks to my beta Elvelethril, and if anyone's curious about the epigenetics that Edward mentions, feel free to PM me.  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**It's been ages, I know, and I'm sorry. Everyone who's been waiting has my eternal gratitude.  
And the next one is already in the works, so fear not.**

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.**

**

* * *

**

_He was staring at our hands, trying to tug his lips out of the brilliant smile that was forming anyway, and it occurred to me that whatever this crazy feeling was, it seemed like he felt it too._

* * *

While I was texting with Alice on Thanksgiving Day, Jasper was perfecting the art of being studiously aloof. He pulled it off pretty well, since casual was his default mode anyway, but I still noticed. It was ridiculous that when I would just slip my phone out of my pocket to type a quick reply he would look away, pretending to be mildly interested in the TV or something out the window. When he started picking at his own shirt, I stretched my leg all the way over to where he was standing and gave him an exaggerated toe-nudge.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and met my eyes. Then, with that same dryly polite tone I heard him use so much at school, he asked, "How's Alice?"

I let out a silent sigh. He was still mad at her. But I couldn't not try to mend bridges, so I had attempted a generic Thanksgiving text to test the waters.

The text I'd gotten back had been lighthearted enough.

**we're already on the res, no turkey at all!**

So I'd replied in turn: **What about Bella's? Her turkey rocks**

A little while later, my phone had buzzed with: **she skipped it cuz jake invited us over early, and she wanted to come. plus there's a game on**

I'd known we were just playing at being fine, at being a brother and sister simply chatting on a holiday. Jas didn't approve, but at least it was a better band-aid than silence. I'd raised an eyebrow at my phone, rereading the latest text, before I answered.

That's when Jasper's faked disinterest became nudge-worthy.

"Alice says there's no turkey," I answered, "and that the res kids are using their ancient charms on her and Bella. I'm thinking we should kick their ass extra hard next semester just to keep them in line."

Even though he rolled his eyes, the set of his shoulders dropped and I even got a little half-smile out of him.

"Like the Wolves stand a chance. Why no turkey?"

Reaching out an arm for him, I looped it around his waist to pull him close.

"Probably something about stealing their land, corn, and sixteen hundred meter record," I said with a smugly conspiratorial grin. Jas held that record for all of Washington State.

He gave me a real smile that time, one that showed in his eyes and the tiny hints of his dimples, and I considered it a mission accomplished.

The rest of our Thanksgiving break went smoothly, despite a few huffy insults from Rosalie until Emmett showed up and they camped out in her room, and I didn't have to worry about making Jas smile.

Because that had definitely become one of my new pastimes. There were pros and cons to it – the downside being that when he was uneasy I could feel it too, but the up was that as soon as he was happy, everything felt right and peaceful again. It was a powerful urge, to poke and pester him with silly comments until he was smiling again, and I blamed it entirely on that crazy feeling I had.

… that crazy feeling that had been growing and morphing in ways I'd never expected. It was no longer just the way I felt calmer and brighter when Jas was touching me, or near me, but something that affected me all day long. With the sheer amount of time we spent together I hadn't thought we could get any closer but, for some reason, when I woke up in the morning I was still anxious to see him. The edgy longing had somehow evolved into something even more potent, something practically tangible that was more an experience than an emotion – something with capital letters and its own fanfare that made it impossible to ignore. It was a Crazy Feeling.

That morning I'd woken up groggy long before I should have, but the possibility of creeping down the hall to see Jasper made it impossible to fall back asleep, keeping my mind whirring with plans and possibilities. Even after a night of heartfelt spooning, I'd still wanted more. Not just physically – I wanted to think that Jas and I had been keeping each other happily satisfied with our nightly trysts – but emotionally. Even when he whispered how happy he was into my ear I still ached for something more, to be more, but I didn't know what more there was. And not being able to pin that feeling down was really starting to unnerve me.

At first, I thought maybe it was just because Jas had been busy over the break. He'd had the first of many deadlines for his bio project with Tyler coming up, and they'd had a lot of last minute brainstorming to do. Knowing Tyler, I was pretty sure any scrambling they did wasn't Jasper's fault.

So I chalked my anxiety up to the gap of alone time that interrupted our otherwise intertwined schedules. Or at least I wanted to, but that excuse fell flat the moment I even thought it. The truth was, we had found plenty of time for ourselves.

We'd stayed in bed til late, making our lazy way into the kitchen for brunch and letting Carlisle think we'd just woken up when he compared our sleeping habits to the living dead. We'd gone for a few runs together, and even gone out for pizza with the guys on Sunday, once everyone's turkey stores had run low.

And that was only the days.

At night, well… I knew it was sort of a given, but I still felt like Jas and I had only just figured out how awesome blowjobs were. Actually, awesome didn't even begin to cover it – they were, hands down, the best thing I'd ever felt. It's not like Jas or I were pros at it – I was still working on my gag reflex, and the swallowing dilemma had come up more than once – but we'd certainly put in a lot of practice over the past few weeks. And Jas and I had whole heartily agreed that those happy ends were well worth any sliminess we had to deal with.

Now I understood why Tyler and Yorkie wouldn't shut up about girls. I mean, if that was how they were getting their BJs, no wonder they thought women were the key to heaven on earth. Anyone who put up with that aftertaste was a saint.

With Carlisle working and Esme making the best of Black Friday, the morning after Thanksgiving was the perfect time for a slow and, for once, well-lit bout of nakedness. And with the door locked, no less. It was really nice to be able to wake up and work off our tension together, especially since my constant morning wood was the over eager kind of soldier, rising sharply before the sun was up and saluting Jasper rigidly every morning without fail.

_Private Masen reporting for duty, sir!_

Now, several days later as I was trying and failing to get some work done, I knew that as enjoyable as those memories were, they were also proof that this Crazy Feeling wasn't just from missing him. And, in reality, the time apart was probably good for us, if only because Esme had pointed out that the break "would be a good time to make a dent in those applications." And she'd meant it.

Damn.

College apps were a bitch. I mean, who cares what 'seemingly-simple skill has contributed to my sense of self' or 'what fictional or historical figure I'd most like to meet, and why?' Why did all these preppy colleges want obnoxious supplemental essays?

I'd thrown out a few of the less important colleges I'd originally listed for Mrs. Cope right off the bat, just because they thought they were too good for the common app, and I wasn't motivated enough to write them four separate essays. Plus, who wants to live in Missouri anyway?

I'd also nixed all the local colleges. Now that I wasn't trying to keep up appearances, I could admit that if I ever ended up back in Washington to look after Ali – unlikely as that obviously was – I would need a paying job, not twenty thousand dollars in student loans.

Even after whittling the pile down as far as I could, I was still overwhelmed by the sheer number of essays I had to write, not to mention the grueling editing and re-editing process that Esme had already alluded to. I think the numbed panic must have shown on my face when I sat down for lunch on Saturday, because that's when Esme'd put her attentive-mothering skills to use.

After eating, she'd insisted we print out all the essay prompts and take a look at them together. Then, twisting an archaic number two pencil from the kitchen drawer, she'd explained what months of over-preparing on Jasper's behalf had taught her.

"Not that he needed it," she'd said, smiling like that was some kind of inside joke. "Sometimes I think he did Early Decision just to avoid this kind of hassle." Then she'd pulled all the applications strewn across the table toward us, lining them up neatly. "At least I can put all this knowledge to good use."

We'd talked a little about what I wanted the application committees to know about me and what I was comfortable putting on paper. Then, after a few moments where she bounced her pencil against the table by its eraser, she'd put several faint, easy-to-erase stars next to a few essay topics.

"Okay, so if you start with how much your mom meant to you when you were younger," she'd started slowly, tapping the Princeton app, "and then segue into how her metastasis triggered your curiosity in research," the pencil had drifted over to Cornell's page, "you can knock off the influential person and academic interests essays in one."

And that, actually, had made a lot of sense. It seemed like Esme always knew little tricks like those. So we'd worked out how to double up a few of the others, and I'd made sure she knew she had my undying gratitude. Because, seriously, the less time I had to spend in essay hell, the better.

Still, though, any time spent there was too long. By Monday I already felt like I should get a time share, or something, because a good portion of my homework time was spent writing jumbled paragraphs at my computer and then pounding the backspace key until the page was miserably blank again. Jas had offered to read my first draft, which was probably a good idea considering how much better he was with words and topic sentences, but that required me to actually finish a draft first.

Around ten, I gave up for the night, tucking my real homework into my backpack and checking my wallet for ticket money before traipsing down the hall to find Jas. I was supposed to find Ali in the morning to buy our Midsummer tickets for closing night, because she was sure they were going to sell out.

I highly doubted it.

When I slipped into Jas's room, he seemed just as aggravated with his computer as I was, judging by the loud clacks of his typing.

I settled myself leaning against his desk, raising one questioning eyebrow.

He hit the return key with a final exaggerated jab, and then looked up at me. "I hate your subject."

I had to grin when he whined like that, like Biology ever did anything to him. Besides, he was still good at it, even if he hated all the memorization.

"My subject is awesome, it's just Mr. Banner that sucks."

"No," he said, still petulant, "it's Tyler that sucks."

Ahh. I knew I should've seen that coming. I reached for his closest hand, pulling it up against my chest and slowly running both my thumbs across his palm in a gesture my mom used to do. "What'd he do?"

He let out a big huff of a sigh, then settled back into his chair to enjoy the massage.

He started to tell me, while I massaged first his right hand, then his left. Tyler sounded like an awful and incompetent partner, leaving Jas to do the same work over and over.

"Jas, I don't get it. Why'd you even decide to partner up with him in the first place?"

He shrugged, that telltale shrug that used to drive me nuts. Jas had sort of dropped it from his verbal vocabulary lately, but now it was back, telling me that whatever he said wasn't really the answer.

"I dunno. He wanted to."

"Jas…" I said. I wasn't buying it.

He looked away, shaking his head. "How was I supposed to say no?"

Well, that was a valid point – it would be a really shitty thing to do to leave a teammate stranded like that. After all, Ty had to keep his grades up just like we did. It just wasn't a problem for us.

With a quick glance to the door, which I'd luckily pushed mostly closed, I had an idea for how to make Jas feel a little bit better.

Raising his hand up nearly to eye level, I said, "How much more do you have to do tonight?" and then pressed the tips of his middle finger into my mouth, sucking it all the way down to the last knuckle.

It was a lot easier to do with his finger, of course, than other things, but it got his attention. His head snapped back toward me, eyes transfixed on my mouth. I slowly slid the finger out of my mouth, shamelessly suggesting things with my tongue on the way.

"Edward," he whispered, only half admonishing me.

As I got to the tip, I swirled my tongue around it before letting it slip out with a little slurping noise. Jasper's eyes flickered to the door, saying, "Edward, don't," but even as he did he raised his fourth finger up to my lips.

I laughed, pressing a kiss to the next finger tip, and debating just how much teasing I should make him endure. Right as I had let my tongue slide down against the first pad of the next finger, we were given the warning of only a brief knock before the door swung open.

I barely had time to pull Jas's hand out of my mouth before the open door revealed Carlisle, already in the old shirt and shorts he wore to bed. He was staring at us holding hands in midair like he had just interrupted something. Which, of course, he had, but we were doing our damnedest to look exceptionally innocent. Slowly, I put Jas's hand down on his desk and turned to Carlisle.

Jas found his voice first. "Hey Dad, what's up?"

"Hey guys. Jasper, I was just wondering if you'd asked him about New York yet?"

"Oh," he looked up at me, "no, I'll ask him now."

It was sort of weird, having them talk about me in third person to my face, so I asked, "What about New York?"

Carlisle came farther into the room, either ignoring or playing off whatever tension he'd felt initially, and sat on the edge of Jasper's bed looking very comfortable.

"I'm about to book tickets for the Christmas trip."

"Wasn't Esme talking about getting those a while ago?"

Jasper curled his lips together and threw a sidelong glance to Carlisle, who was looking at me like I had just let a girl into the all-boys club house.

"That's what Mom said. She was bitching him out this morning."

"Jasper, language. And your mother was not chewing me out, she was just in a rush to get to her client."

He said it in such a diplomatic fashion that I almost believed him – almost – but I could definitely see Esme rushing around downstairs, trying to get down a bagel in the middle of one of her 'Didn't I tell you' rants. Most of them were personally tailored – Jasper's focused on dirty dishes, and mine reminded me to pick up my dirty clothes.

"Anyway," he said, "Edward, we'd like to know if you want to go with us."

Woah. Christmas with the Cullens? Hell yeah. I hadn't really thought about Christmas yet, especially since we'd just barely finished Thanksgiving, but between hanging out in the Cullen's empty house or, worse, my Dad's, versus vacationing with my boyfriend? The answer to that was a big fat Duh.

From the corner of my eye I saw Jasper's hand. He had slid it along his desk so that he could tap the tip of his finger against mine. He made no other overt gesture, only touching me with the tiniest part of himself, but that was all I needed. His hopeful grin said the rest.

Looking back to Carlisle, I asked, "Can I let you know tomorrow? I just want to check in with Alice."

"Sure, tomorrow then, but I do need to get these tickets ASAP."

I nodded. "I'll let you know."

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands against his knees and pushing himself up from the bed. "G'night, boys."

We both said goodnight and watched him leave the door open especially wide. On purpose, no doubt.

Jas got up immediately, crossing to the door and closing it to a nice 'practically closed but not technically touching' distance. Then he came back, stepping right up between my knees.

He kissed me then, for the first time in hours, and said, "I really want you to come with us."

"Jas, it's really expensive."

I knew what he would say, I knew what they would all say, but it was still true.

"Edward, don't worry about it."

I gave him a very pointed, close-proximity, look.

"Look, Mom said… well, she said a lot of stuff, but basically it doesn't matter." He moved his hands over mine, scooting even closer between my legs. "It's not about the money."

Yup, I knew he would say that. And I did really, really want to give him a resounding yes, but I couldn't just yet.

"Just let me talk to Alice, okay?"

He pressed his lips together flat, disappointed, but I ran my hands up his bare arms and said, "Of course I'm coming, I just have to check in with her first. She's my sister."

I knew that mollified him when he kissed me again.

"Jas," I said softly, "you have to remember I'm a Phoenix guy at heart."

"Yeah?" he said, already starting to smirk.

I pulled him closer, leaching some of his body heat. "Yeah. When we go to New York, you're gonna have to keep me warm."

"God forbid," he whispered with his silly, excited grin.

I loved that grin.

The next morning, I scanned the parking lot for Ali so I could give Carlisle his ASAP answer, but we'd barely gotten out of the car when we were intercepted by Jessica. Really, it was Jessica and Lauren, while a few of the other cheerleaders hung back and waited. A loud scoff caught my attention and I saw the swing of Rosalie's blond ponytail as she turned away from us, talking to some of the other Junior cheerleaders, so I did my best to focus on Jessica.

She was all bundled up and struggling to keep a puffy pink scarf under her chin, but she was still as effervescent as ever. Lauren was avoiding looking at me, like she always did since our one awkward encounter, and I was perfectly fine with that.

Both of them had bright yellow ribbons tied into their ponytails. Actually, as I looked around, all the cheer girls did, so I wondered if there was gonna be a pep rally or something. Maybe Jas knew, he paid better attention to that stuff than I did.

"Hey guys," Jessica said with way too much cheer for so early in the morning.

"Hey Jess," Jasper answered. "How's everything?"

"Swamped! I'm trying to get into college anywhere in New York City, so I'm spending all my time trying to fill out apps."

Usually Jas did all the talking while I just did my best to look friendly, and I think sometimes I even failed at that. This time, though… man, did I know how she felt. Those stupid frickin' apps were an awful time-suck, so I nodded along.

"How about you?" she asked, pushing a collection of curls out of her face. "Tired of writing your own name yet?"

"Actually, I applied early."

"Ugh, you're so lucky!"

_No,_ I thought, as she totally missed the point,_ he's smart. And strategic. _

Jas was polite as ever, though, smiling down at her, and he motioned to me. "Edward's got a bunch though."

She glanced over to me, asking, "Oh, yeah?"

Her gaze wandered back to Jas quickly, and even though I didn't really talk to Jessica much, or Lauren at all, I was ready to gripe about apps. Beyond ready. And Jessica actually understood what a burden it was to write so many damn essays.

I did my best to sympathize "Yeah, I've actually got a bunch. And I know what you mean – they're a real pain in the ass. I mean, they all seem to hate the common app, which makes them seem so arrogant, and I wish they'd just… get over themselves."

I trailed off as Jessica's eyes widened, and stopped all together when even Lauren managed to actually look at me.

Jessica blinked away whatever she was thinking, though, and asked, "So how many essays do you have?"

"Well," I said quietly, suddenly over the idea of ranting and trying to avoid the way they were staring, "four, now, 'cause I'm doubling some up."

She blinked some more, then squinted her eyes and said, "Wait, how?"

I looked to Jas, hoping that somewhere among his many talents he possessed the ability to rescue me from my own awkwardness, but he just looked back, waiting for my answer.

I shifted my weight around, tugging my backpack up on one shoulder, but that didn't seem to take up nearly enough time and the bell wasn't going to ring for another ten minutes. Eventually, I decided I had better pay it forward and gave them a brief explanation of what Esme had taught me. I could tell when it started to make sense, because Jessica and Lauren turned to each other for some high-pitch chatter with words like Parsons and Chelsea and a bunch of Academies I'd never heard of.

Behind them, I could see Rosalie rolling her eyes.

Soon enough, Jessica and Lauren talked themselves out and remembered we were standing there. Jessica looked up at me with wind-reddened cheeks and giggled, "That's a really smart idea, Edward. I'll have to try that."

I cleared my throat, feeling myself flush at the social awkwardness of getting myself into a conversation I had no idea how to get out of, and then getting even more embarrassed that I was so lousy at it in the first place.

This was why I always let Jas do the talking.

"It was actually Mrs. Cullen's idea," I said, completely giving up on trying to make eye contact and mentally begging Jas to rejoin the conversation.

"Oh," she said, her voice suddenly sounding a lot softer. "That was really nice of her."

I was rescued from the conversation, then, by a most unlikely savior, when Rosalie yelled over to remind them they had squad stuff to go over before class.

The girls linked arms and gave us their best cheer smiles, before joining their friends.

I could definitely feel how red my cheeks were, so I busied my hands by pushing my hair back and turned to Jasper.

He raised one eyebrow, hiding it entirely behind the morning mess of his wavy hair, and said, "You know you just made their day?"

I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting several seconds before opening them again.

"Come on," I said, eager to forget it, "let's get to class."

Luckily, Alice found me at my locker at the beginning of lunch, envelope in hand. When she gave it to me, I couldn't help but notice what she'd written on it. I knew that usually they just wrote the name of whoever reserved the tickets, but she'd written **Edward + Jasper**. For some reason, our names written together like that looked especially intimate. I eyed her carefully, glancing specifically down at the names and then back at her, but she shrugged it off.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said.

Our names did look pretty damn good together.

I slipped it into my pocket so no one else could get a look, and Alice turned toward the cafeteria.

"Umm, before you go, I just want to… check in, I guess, about Christmas."

"Christmas?" she said, turning back around and wrinkling up her nose like it was a dirty word. "We just finished Thanksgiving."

I gave a little silent laugh. "That's exactly what I thought, except the Cullens are going to New York again and they've invited me to go with."

"Oooh," she said, drawing out the sound like I'd told her something far more intriguing. "And you wanna?"

I nodded.

She leaned in, lowering her voice, and said, "To be with him."

I looked away, tracking my eyes all over the emptying hallway, trying not to flush over such a simple comment. So far she'd managed to say very little about me and Jas, withholding any sort of opinion, and I felt like I was holding my breath waiting for it. Finally, though, I nodded again.

"You should go."

"It doesn't bother you?" I asked quietly, not entirely sure which it I was talking about anymore.

"Christmas?" she asked, in a classic stalling maneuver. "No, Billy Black already said I should come back with Bella for Christmas, and that way I can see Seth too."

Sure, that was probably a given, but I felt a tiny flash of excitement of the thought of traveling with my boyfriend for the holidays.

The rest of me, though, the anxious part that still remembered how Alice called me an asshole after we'd been caught almost-kissing, demanded that I press on.

I was reluctant even as the words left my mouth, but I asked, "And the rest? You're not freaked out, or anything, about… us?" I whispered the last word, scanning the hallway again for anyone lingering or turning an ear our way, but saw none.

Alice shifted her backpack, gripping the straps tightly in her hands, tapping distracting patterns against the fabric.

Watching her was making me agitated too, but I couldn't bear to tell her to forget it.

"I—" she started, and then shook her head. One hand went up to pull on a spiky strand of black hair before she looked up at me again. "I was surprised, I guess. Or, you know, surprised over how I really shouldn't have been surprised, if that makes sense."

It sort of did, but I waited for her to continue anyway, trying not to give away how I was hanging on her every word.

"Look, Edward. That was a shitty thing to do, making out in Bella's driveway—"

That time I did open my mouth to cut her off, but she didn't stop.

"— or whatever, but it didn't matter who it was with. Actually," she mused, "I think that actually made it easier. But anyway."

Her eyes flickered across my face, taking me in while I did the same to her. She didn't really seem angry though, just thoughtful, and surprisingly comfortable with talking about it. Even with her weird contacts, the way she was looking up at me made her look so honest and accepting.

"So," I said, hoping so fervently that I wouldn't regret my next words, "you're okay with it?"

"It's like Mom said, all that really matters is that you're happy. So… yeah."

It was more of a relief than I'd even expected – there was tension that I hadn't even known I'd been carrying through the conversation that suddenly dissipated. I felt light, almost like I wanted to hug her, but… no, it was Jasper I wanted to hug, to share my relief with.

"You know, I'm kinda surprised you're not the one freaking out."

I sighed a little ruefully at the thought. She did have a point, but even that couldn't kill my buzz. She knew I was god-awful with change – had been since we moved to Forks – and there was no changing that. Except that the truth of the moment was, despite temporary spazzes, everything with me and Jas had come pretty easy.

Initially, I'd assumed that it had all felt so natural because it wasn't that different than before but, especially with the evolution of this Crazy Feeling, it was obvious that we actually had come a long way.

The thought had occurred to me a few times before, too, that I never saw any of this coming. Like when Jas would rub little circles on the back of my hand when I drove, or when I'd catch myself reaching over to push a blond curl behind his ear, I would remember that it never used to be like this. Maybe, since we had just fit all these tiny affectionate gestures into a long-established routine, it just felt seamless. I didn't know.

And there were other less-random moments, of course, like the first time Jas left his fingers drift a little deeper into my boxers than he had before, brushing against virgin skin. That had definitely come with an alarming realization that we still had a large section of 'uncharted territory' to explore.

I shook that thought from my head, not wanting to imagine those kinds of things at school.

"He…" I chose my words carefully. "He makes it really easy to feel like it's all gonna be okay."

She nodded, acknowledging what an important trait that was, but then flashed a tight, almost embarrassed smile.

"I always thought I'd hate whatever girlfriend you brought home. And now I don't have to. I mean, he's great."

I nodded extra-enthusiastically. "He really is. He's the best, Ali."

Her smile spread into a wide, genuine grin then, and I couldn't hold back my own stupidly giddy excitement. I coughed once and fussed with my hair, patting the longest strands down and trying to temper my smile as well, but for once my hair was the least unruly part of me.

"Oh my god, look at you." She threw her head back to let out a light laugh and then went right back to staring at me. "You're, like, glowing."

"Am not."

"Come on," she said, grabbing my sleeve and dragging me toward the cafeteria. When we got to the door she paused, tilting her face up to mine and said, "Maybe, before you leave, we could do our own Christmas?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'd like that.

Then she skipped off to find Bella, or Seth, or both, and I went and found the guys.

I'd barely gotten one leg under the table when Yorkie said, "Woah, Masen. You look like you found tomorrow's lottery numbers."

Of course, then everyone had to look up at me, and I couldn't do anything but slip quietly into my chair. I had to get myself under control, and took a moment to calm myself. but I couldn't really get away with that either.

Tyler cut in, asking, "No, really, what's up Edward? This about Jessica?"

"What?" I asked, snapping my head up. "Who said that?"

"Some Cheer girls."

Then he shrugged, which told me nothing, and I decided it was the most aggravating gesture ever invented.

"No," I said, keeping my voice decidedly neutral but pressing my leg, ankle to knee, up against Jasper's. "I'm going to New York for winter break."

Jasper pressed back.

Yorkie scoffed. "That's it? That's kinda lame. I've been to New York plenty of times."

I shrugged, because that seemed to be the ultimate tool of one-upping people. "I've never been before."

"I think it'll be fun," Jas said, and his voice was so perfectly casual that no one bothered to argue.

They let the topic slide for the rest of lunch, but when everyone else had gotten up after the bell Jasper leaned over and said, in his lowest voice, "I'm gonna kiss you later."

I stood up, waggling my eyebrows at him and said, "Damn straight."

That night, Carlisle and Esme were excited to hear I'd be joining them, and Jas and I were in high spirits despite Rosalie's funk at dinner. She was pissed that Jasper got to bring a friend, and muttered about how she'd be stuck with her parents for break until Carlisle reminded her that that was because her friends had their own parents to spend it with too.

It stung, and not just for Rosalie, but I was in too good of a mood to dwell on it.

The only downer of the night came when dinner was over, and Esme reminded me that she had yet to see any college essays.

Damnit.

So, I sentenced Jasper to exile in his own room while I camped out on my own little slice of hell, and the right words were just as elusive as ever.

I watched the blinking line at the top of a blank screen, wondering why it was called a cursor in the first place. Then again, its incessant winking and inability to motivate me to write anything certainly made me feel like cursing.

When I heard someone slip through the door behind me, I didn't look up immediately so at least it would look like I was working.

I smelled his shampoo before he reached me, but I still let him think he was being stealthy. When he slipped his arms around my shoulders from behind, like I knew he would, I bit back a grin. And when he leaned down to press his lips to that one spot on my neck that made me weakest, I merely gripped his forearms tightly across my chest.

It wasn't until he lifted his head to grab my earlobe between his lips that I let myself really grin at the attention. I could feel his breath skimming across my ear, and if he didn't have his warm body draped above mine, I think I would have shivered.

"Can I help you?" I asked, making sure to sound as inconvenienced as possible.

Instead of answering he pressed his teeth gently into my earlobe, shaking it back and forth like a puppy in need of attention. By that point I was full-on smirking, and when I didn't respond immediately he let out a little puppy-growl and did it again.

God, he was adorable when he was feeling playful, and doubly so when he was rescuing me from working. Playful Jas was one of my favorites.

Without warning him I swiveled my chair around until my legs swung into his, knocking him off balance and into my lap. He took in a surprised breath and landed hard, clutching onto my shoulders way tighter than he needed to. He laughed and dug his fingers into my shoulders even harder when his butt started to slip, but I chuckled at him because I already had my arms around his waist. Like I would ever let him fall.

It took a moment or two of sloppy readjusting, but by the time we got ourselves straightened out he had gotten over the shock and we were both laughing. The surprise for me came when I realized he had already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, ready for bed. I raised one eyebrow at him, wondering what he had in mind, but he made several serene, innocent faces, like he hadn't brought that on himself and had no idea why he ended up in my lap. It made me want to kiss him. Hard.

Our arms were already conveniently looped around each other, but our teeth clacked together from our grins and that made it even harder to stop laughing. I loved Jas like that, all happy and silly, so I did my best to sound at least halfway serious when I told him he was interrupting my creative essay mojo, just to make him laugh again.

His eyes flicked over my shoulder to the blank screen and he snorted. "You have no mojo."

"Hey!" I said, all indignant. I pulled him down for another grinning kiss, distracting him from where my other hand was sliding up his thigh.

His chuckle caught on a breath when he felt my fingers tracing the line of his boxer briefs, but he made no move to stop me. No mojo, indeed. When he caught my eye he looked a little flushed, but still playful.

"No insulting my mojo," I said sternly, and he nodded with the same mock severity before leaning in for another kiss.

That one was more successful, but he pulled away all too soon and said, "I'm really glad you're coming with us."

I stretched my neck up, catching one more kiss, before I said, "I am too. And, actually, there's more."

"Yeah?"

"I also talked to Ali, just a little, about us."

"Oh," he said, no longer feigning his seriousness. He turned himself on my lap so he could face me better. "And what did she say?"

"Not much, I guess. But I guess I, you know, have her blessing."

I saw his jaw flex, and he waited several long seconds before asking, "Did we need her blessing?"

"What? No." I wrapped my arms around his waist, suddenly feeling like he was too far away. "It's just nice to have it, you know?"

He nodded then, still looking grave, but let me pull him closer.

"It was a good thing, Jas. I didn't mean to bum you out."

"No, I know. And it is good. Edward?"

Even though he was obviously trying, he sounded anything but casual. And since he was sitting on my lap, it was pretty obvious to tell he was avoiding eye contact, which was odd for him.

"Yeah?" I asked, watching him carefully and tucking my hands under the back of his shirt, just to press against his warm skin.

"I want to tell my sister, too."

My entire body stilled, and I could feel a little ball of worry knot up in my stomach immediately.

Suddenly I was the one avoiding eye contact. "Jas, I don't know."

"Come on, Edward." I could feel his fingers picking at the neck of my shirt.

"I just can't see anything good coming of it."

"We wouldn't have to hide," he said so emphatically that I had to look up. "We wouldn't have to sneak around the house so much, or watch TV from separate sides of the couch. We could go to New York and hold hands. In public, even. And maybe she would… understand."

He seemed so excited about all these possibilities, but I just couldn't share his enthusiasm. The thought of Rosalie knowing, of having the power of that information, just churned the dread in my stomach even more. I could just see her, pitching a fit, lashing out…

I fidgeted with the hem of his boxers, watching my hand as I spoke. "Jas, she'll freak out. She hates me."

I shook my head, letting my floppy hair hide my face for a moment. It was no use, though, because he slid one hand up from my neck to push it back again.

"I'll explain it to her," he said simply, and all the wide-eyed hope on his face told me he thought that would really help. "I'll just tell her how much I like you."

That's what he said. He didn't stutter, or whisper, or do anything to indicate he meant anything other than what he said. So I had no explanation for why, when he said how much he liked me, my brain supplied the word love.

Love. He said like, but I thought love.

It came out of nowhere, but as soon as I thought it, it seemed to bloom and tangle itself with all my other thoughts. How gentle Jasper's fingertips were as they brushed across my forehead, how everything seemed clearer and calmer when I was with him, and all those nights laying awake wondering if my Crazy Feeling had a real name.

Suddenly, it seemed, it did. And that name was huge.

Is this what love felt like? How would I know for sure? Could I tell him? Did he love me back? Could he? Would it change things? Would it convince Rosalie?

In the time it took me to blink, I felt like I was drowning in questions.

Jasper was still talking, explaining, but I missed it because the next thing I caught was him saying, "Okay?"

He was watching me really carefully, but I couldn't talk about Rosalie. I didn't want to talk about anything anymore; I needed to think.

Wrapping both my arms tightly around his back, I pulled him flush against my chest so he had no choice but to kiss me. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to feel every nuance of his lips against mine and his hands on my neck.

I wanted that kiss to have the answer, to trigger something in my brain so that any time I looked at Jasper there would be a huge arrow or glow or sign floating above his head that said L-O-V-E. But when I peeked I just saw Jasper, squeezing his eyes shut to concentrate on kissing me back.

When he curled his fingers into my hair, though, I felt my whole body respond. My skin felt warm and even when I took in a breath so that my chest was pressed even harder against his, I could still feel my heart thudding away, pumping toe-tingling adrenaline through my body.

Just like before, I could feel my chest getting tight, wanting something more, waiting for it. It didn't matter how close I pulled him, I was still overwhelmed by feelings of excitement and longing and gratitude.

I decided that maybe I didn't know what love felt like, but if this wasn't it, I didn't need it.

Again, Jasper pulled away too soon, but left his lips against mine to whisper, "Later. Tonight."

I nodded and kissed him one last time before loosening my grip.

He straightened up, tucking his hair behind his ears and readjusting his shirt. "I have to go talk to Mom, but I'll come back later?"

I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was already past eleven. Later wasn't that far away, and I nodded.

Jasper slipped off my lap, and I took a deep breath to calm myself.

I was up late that night, long after Jasper slipped into his own bed, thinking about my new revelation. What bothered me was that Jas was so much better with this kind of stuff – knowing what he wanted, how he felt, and how to put it into words without getting all antsy over it – and he hadn't said a word. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it was obvious that he was sticking to the word 'like' as if it were the only word he knew.

I thought these overwhelming emotions were a mutual thing but, then again, I was sure that if he felt it too he would have said something. So… he must not. That thought panged uncomfortably, but it still didn't answer the question of why.

Why didn't he love me? How had I come this far with him, only to find myself suddenly alone?

_Maybe_, I thought_, it's just too soon._ We'd only been together for two months, after all, and maybe he thought it was foolish to declare your love so quickly.

I knew we'd both seen Tyler announce his undying love for many a girl, just to be bitter and disappointed when she turned out to be merely human after all. It was hard to believe that was really the reason, though, because that didn't apply to us.

Tyler didn't really know those girls, not like I knew Jasper.

And I knew Jasper. I'd heard all his secrets, and told him mine. We'd fumbled in the darkness, learning each other's bodies and rhythms as intimately as we knew our own.

I already knew all his flaws and bad habits, like his tendency to use all the hot water, or leave the cap off his toothpaste. The way he crunched his cereal too loudly, and seemed to space out during movies. I already knew the way he shrugged off questions, and how much he hated confrontation. I even knew, now, how badly he folded when there was yelling involved.

And I didn't care. Even while cataloguing all his flaws, I still wanted to be near him, to hold and kiss and immerse myself in him.

To love him.

* * *

**Tons of thanks to my marvelous beta, Elvelethril. **

**Also, YBF has been nominated for Best Overall Jasper Fic over at the Everything's Bigger in Texas Awards, hosted by Jasper's Darlin's, and my one shot Power is up for best Vampsper too. Mosey on over by 4/12 (tomorrow) to pick your favorites!  
****jaspersdarlins . blogspot . com/2010/03/everythings-bigger-in-texas-voting-is . html**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.**

* * *

_Even while cataloguing all his flaws, I still wanted to be near him, to hold and kiss and immerse myself in him._

_To love him._

* * *

I leaned in the open doorway, watching as Jasper got the mail.

How did others see him? I wondered. What would they think if they could see him through my eyes? Those broad shoulders, the long lines of his back, those sometimes-curls… If when I was much older, someone asked me to reflect on my first love, how could I make them understand? Would I be able to do him justice?

That was a stupid thought and I shook it away. My brain kept coming up with these little scenarios where I had to explain what I felt for him, to put it into words. Because lately, the right words had been more elusive than ever.

"It's too early," I called out to him, just as he shut the mailbox. "Give them another week."

"Just checking," he said, playing it off with a shrug. Cornell's Early Decision responses were due by mid-December, but it was only the fifth and he insisted on checking anyway.

Casually, of course.

I goosed him on his way in, just to distract him. He jumped a bit and dropped the mail on the entryway table before he looked over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at me. Quickly slipping my hand into his back pocket, I let him lead me to the kitchen, where Esme was setting the table.

"Any word yet, sweety?"

"Nope."

He said it like it was no big deal, and it probably wouldn't have been if Esme would stop asking him every day.

On Monday, when Jessica asked him too, he gave her the same indifferent answer but refused to say any more. Or maybe he just never got another word in edgewise, because she was chattering away.

She had been dropping by our table more and more with Lauren, first to basically tell me how smart my essay idea was, even though I'd told her it was Esme's, and then to just talk about colleges in general. Anything and everything about them – admission statistics or interview techniques or whatever else seemed vaguely related. Mike threw in a couple of responses from time to time, especially in the gaps left by Jasper's silence, but Jessica made it pretty clear that now that I'd opened my mouth, she expected me to join in the conversations.

I wished I never had.

During lunch we were pretty much sitting ducks. It's not that she wasn't nice, I reminded myself, she just took up a lot of time. Especially since it was clear that Jas never felt like talking when she and Lauren were around, and it felt like I was giving up time with him for time with the girls. And that wasn't a trade I'd willingly make any day.

So we'd started bee-lining our way to History in the morning and heading straight to the gym after sixth period.

That afternoon, though, just after our last class was over, I was sidetracked by the sight of Charlie's cruiser in the parking lot.

"Hey," I said quietly, nudging Jasper's side. When he looked up, I tilted my head towards the parking lot and we shared a look of intrigued confusion before veering off towards it.

Alice caught sight of us first, just as they were getting to the cruiser, and elbowed Bella.

"Oh, um, hi," Bella said, turning back into the slightly-pink, stammering girl she'd been when I first met her. Except now I knew why, and that made it pretty awkward.

Clearly, I would never have a comfortable conversation with a girl again.

I tried to be as neutral as possible. "Hi, Bella. How are you?"

"Fine," she said, "I'm fine. How're you?"

I nodded back, trying to think of something suitable to say, but couldn't. "I'm fine."

There was a beat where no one said anything, but luckily Jasper's silence didn't extend to these girls. "So Bella," he asked, "are we gonna see you on closing night?"

She relaxed, so I relaxed, and Alice's grin light up like a spotlight.

"Of course," Bella said, giving Alice a playful eye roll. "Dad and I are both coming. Ali wouldn't let us see it before then."

"Great, we'll see you there," Jas said, as I leaned down to the driver's side window just as Charlie was rolling it down.

"Hey Charlie, off early today?"

"Well," he said, fiddling with his mustache, "your sister and I have a meeting."

"Oh?" I asked, looking up to Ali.

"I looked for you this morning," she said, stepping away from Bella and leaning against the side of the cruiser so the three of us could talk.

"Oh. I was sort of hiding."

"From Jessica Stanley?"

"How'd you know?"

She smirked and I smirked back. Even though they were all very nice girls, Alice had never been particularly impressed with the cheer squad either.

"Anyway, what's this meeting?"

Alice tugged on a spike of hair and looked to Charlie, then back at me. "Some guy is gonna come interview us, just to check out the situation, so he can report back."

"It's all routine social services stuff, Edward," Charlie threw in. "The guy's just doing his job."

I fidgeted, leaning myself against the car too. "I didn't realize you guys had gotten that far."

"Charlie put in the paperwork a little while ago," Alice said, and Charlie nodded, "but this was sort of last minute."

"Do, uh, do I need to be there for anything?"

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Edward. S'routine, like I said."

My gaze flickered back and forth between him and Alice. "What about— I mean, did anyone try to—"

Charlie cleared his throat noisily, cutting me off. Then he shifted around his seat propped his elbow up in the open window before saying, in a very professional voice, "Your father failed to respond to any form of contact at his current address, court-issued or otherwise."

All I could say was, "Oh," and watch Ali tug away at her hair.

It was probably a good thing. If he couldn't even be bothered to write back and defend his own parental rights, he didn't deserve to be our father anyway. Plus, then Charlie would get guardianship no problem. It was, for sure, a good thing.

But it still sucked.

Ali had worked one strand of hair so much that it lost its spike, and she started patting it down behind her ear.

"Your hair's longer."

"Oh, yeah," she said, untucking the strand. "It's sorta awkward right now."

"It looks okay."

"Cute, Edward," she said, giving me a playfully exasperated smile. "You tell girls their hair looks cute."

"It does," I said quickly, "it looks cute," and she actually laughed.

"Alright, guys," Charlie said, thumping his hand audibly on the side of the car. "Don't wanna be late."

"Right," I said, backing away from the car as he started the engine. "Let me know how it goes?"

"Sure. Come on, Bella."

Bella and Jas looked up from their own private conversation several feet away, and she said something quiet to him before climbing into the back too.

Then we all said our goodbyes, and Jas and I headed for track before they were out of the parking lot.

I did get a text from Ali that night letting me know that the meeting really was 'fine' but I still looked for her the next morning while Jas headed to class.

She and Seth were hanging out by her locker, but when she spotted me she said something quietly, and then balanced herself with a hand on his chest to give him a kiss.

He got the message, whatever it was, and gave me a quick nod before heading off to his own class.

"Hey," I said, stepping up to her.

I wondered how long I should beat around the bush. She didn't make me wait long, though, because as she leaned against her locker she had a very knowing smile.

"It went totally fine, Edward. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh, yeah? Good. That's good."

"It was really mostly an interview for Charlie. I mean, to make sure he's fit, or whatever, and of course he is.

"Yeah, of course he is," I repeated. "So, that's it?"

She took a deep breath, pushing her not-so-spiky-today hair behind her ears, and her smile shifted slightly. "It doesn't feel like a 'that's it' kind of thing. I mean, Charlie's already done a lot, and the guy wants me to have my own bed and stuff, but Charlie said that's fine. Now, we just need someone to sign as a secondary guardian."

"Esme said—"

"Oh yeah, I know," she said, too quickly.

There was a moment, then, where I didn't know what to say. Alice was staring up at me just like I was staring at her, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

I hadn't offered myself.

Esme had said, countless times really, that Alice was always welcome and she'd do whatever she could to help. And it was really a moot point anyway. But…

I guessed I really had given up the idea of being some sort of guardian. Or maybe I'd just really latched onto the idea of getting out of Forks with Jas. Either way, I wasn't as eager to shoulder that responsibility anymore.

I cleared my throat, just as Ali said, "Anyway."

"Anyway."

"So, how's things at the Cullen's? Still all glowy?"

I looked back over my shoulder, towards the H building where Jas would be sitting in class, and took just a moment to think of it.

Yes… with Jas, I definitely still felt like glowing, even if that feeling suddenly had a new name, and even if I had no idea how to share that new name with him. I was certain he felt it too, when he would hum against the skin of my neck, or give me his brilliant crooked smiles. But then he would stick fastidiously to the word like – he liked coming home with me, he liked curling up with me, he really _liked_ me – and I would just deflate. How could I tell him I felt something more than like?

What if he couldn't say it back?

I looked back at Ali, eager for a distraction from those thoughts, but froze at the look on her face. Her eyebrows were launched as high as they could go and she looked almost amused.

"What?"

"What, yourself," she said, grinning. "You've got your patented freak-out face on."

I sighed. Damn my face, it was such a bad liar.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I said, running a hand through my morning hair.

"Well," she said, still amused and way too intrigued, "have you told Jasper about this nothing?"

"No, I just said, it's nothing."

"Yeah, I know, but I think you should tell him anyway. That's what—" she dropped her voice, "boyfriends are for. You can tell them anything."

"Yeah?" I asked, trying to casually change the subject. "Do you tell Seth everything?"

Except as soon as I said it, I knew it was anything but casual. Ali turned away, fiddling more with her hair and backpack, but then she did something that surprised me. She answered.

She took in a deep breath and let it out on a slow sigh. "Actually, yeah. These days, I do."

I waited for her to elaborate because, okay, I was a little skeptical.

"Seth's really big on communication," she continued, and the way she over enunciated made it clear that that was a buzzword in their relationship. "So after the whole… misunderstanding, yeah. I tell him pretty much everything."

I was both relieved and jealous, all at the same time, but I knew it wouldn't do to let either of those show. Instead, I nodded along and said, "Good. That's good."

"He wants to talk to you, you know."

"Why? About what?"

That's when she started to smile again, and she even rolled her eyes. "Not like that. He just said that if he'd known… well, you know, he would have tried to get to know you better. Since you're family, and all."

I said, "Alright," only a little begrudgingly. He'd been an asshole every time I'd talked to him before but, then again, if his main priorities were communication, family, and Alice, it was hard to just write him off.

"Anyway," she said, back to the typical too-chipper too-early self I remembered. "I've gotta get to class. Don't freak out too much. Or better yet," she said over her shoulder as she turned toward the doorway, "just tell him. See you later."

A quick check of my phone told me I had better hurry to class, but it didn't matter if I was on time. It turned out, I was too distracted to remember the first half hour anyway. I spent it staring at Jas's curls and thinking about the four letter word camped out on the tip of my tongue.

Alice said to just tell him but… how? Just the idea of it made my palms sweat. I just couldn't fathom telling him without knowing, for sure, that he felt it back. What if he just answered with silence or, worse, 'thank you?'

The longer I thought about it the more worst-case-scenarios I came up with, and I sighed heavily while I pretended to take notes.

Why couldn't things be like old times? Like way old times, where I could just club him over the head and drag him back to my cave, and he'd know I'd chosen him. Or should he be the one clubbing me? Whatever – we could club the crap out of each other, but we'd know it was love.

No, I couldn't risk it. And if I ever did, I couldn't just say it. I had to show it, to make some gesture that would win him over… or something.

Jas was pretty quiet over the next week, especially since he was tied up with the second phase of his bio project with Ty. I didn't really mind though, because it gave me time to ponder the perfect romantic gesture, mostly in the form of staring – lots of staring. Sometimes he would catch me and smile before raising a curious eyebrow, but I'd just shake my head so he could get back to work. As his deadline got closer he stopped asking, which was good because I stopped having to make up lame excuses for why I was so distracted.

Not that all my hours of contemplation were doing me any good. I laid awake at night, searching for some kind of romantic gesture that would make him happy but wasn't over-done or lame, and ended up scrapping every idea. Sometimes it'd be the thought of rain, or the possibility of him misinterpreting a gesture, but I eventually found a flaw in every plan. It was a scary thought, that I just wasn't romantic – or romantic enough, anyway – but it seemed to be true. So instead I resigned myself to wait for inspiration to strike, and tried to get some sleep in the meantime.

The meantime really stretched on. Before I knew it Jasper and I were heading to Ali's play.

I had decided to dress a little nicer than usual, with a button down shirt and a sweater. It obviously wasn't a date or anything, since we were going to the high school, and would be surrounded by people we knew, but still. It was Saturday night and Jas and I were going out. It warranted a collared shirt.

I think he liked it, too, 'cause he'd thumbed the tips of my collar and given me a kiss before we left.

Alice was actually right about the turn out – most people seemed to have waited for closing night, so the auditorium was nearly full. Some of the younger students I recognized from Ali's lunch crowd were working the snack table, and even more were handing out photocopied programs at the door.

I didn't spot Alice until we were looking for seats, and she and Bella and some other techies were sitting near the front. Jas and I headed over, but ran into Charlie first.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Hey there, Edward. Jasper. You guys remember Seth and Leah's mom?" he asked, turning to the woman beside him. It was sort of hard to reconcile this woman with the Quileute nurse I remembered, with her pitch black hair in loose waves all the way down her back and the bright turquoise top, but it was nice to know she didn't give off that school-teacher vibe all the time.

"Sure," I said. "Hi Mrs. Clearwater."

"Please," she smiled, "just Sue. How's that leg doing?"

"Good as new." And to further make my point, I jumped a little from one leg to the other.

Then, of course, I felt stupid for doing it, but she just smiled wide enough to make little crinkles near her eyes and said, "Oh, I'm so glad. The meets just wouldn't be the same without you. Or you," she added, turning to Jas. "No tumbles for you, I hope?"

His mouth quirked up a bit on one side, probably because when runners wiped out it wasn't just a 'tumble', but he just said, "No, I've been alright."

Sue started to say something else, but I couldn't make it out over a high voice calling, "Edward! Jasper!"

I knew who it was without looking, and Sue curled her hand around Charlie's arm and led him to their seats, leaving us alone.

And at Jessica's mercy.

"Hey Edward," she said, stepping up to us with Lauren in tow. Her cheeks were red and she looked excited about something. "Where are you guys sitting?"

Jas pointed noncommittally towards the back of the auditorium, where there were still empty seats, but Jessica just shook her head.

"We have better seats saved up front, come on." As the overhead lights flickered she grabbed my arm, tugging me towards the stage.

I looked at Jasper and he looked at me, but he had his neutral face on and I couldn't think of a decent argument, so I didn't put up a struggle.

She was right, their seats were a lot better. I had been instructed to 'watch how the trees change' and to 'look for the moon', whatever that meant, and sitting in the fifth row meant I might actually notice the handiwork Alice wanted me to see.

Lauren tripped over several people's feet to get to the open seats, followed by Jessica and me and Jas, just in time for the lights to go out. In the brief black-out before the play started, Jessica leaned over and whispered, "You look really cute tonight, by the way."

I tried to say something about what she looked like, because I'd figured out lately that that's what girls wanted to hear, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what she was wearing. A sweater, maybe? Actually, I didn't really care, so I didn't say anything at all.

The play was… chaotic. I knew Jasper understood more than I did, because he laughed at several archaic jokes I didn't get, but the sets and costumes were really vivid, and the love triangle – rectangle, I guess – was easy enough to get. I think Jessica was better with that olde-english stuff than I was too, because she kept gasping during speeches and grabbing my wrist in surprise. Even when it was in my lap.

All the backgrounds looked great – especially the trees, which seemed to have real leaves mixed in among the painted ones, giving the whole set an especially realistic appearance. It was obvious a lot of time and care went into making each backdrop multifaceted so that it would make sense in several scenes, and I had to applaud Alice's efforts. Still, though, I couldn't help but think that she should have been in the cast.

The fairies were all in these bright, flowy costumes, running around trying to mimic the grace that Ali had naturally. If she couldn't get a speaking role, she would have at least been great at that. But then again, she seemed to really enjoy the designing and painting, so I was going to keep my mouth shut.

Through the entire first act, I was hyper-aware of Jasper sitting next to me. What I really wanted to do was find some way to press a hand or foot or something up against him. But unfortunately, with all of us crammed into those tiny folding chairs, it was nearly impossible to do anything undetected. Plus, the way Jessica grabbed at me was pretty jarring, and I didn't want to keep jostling Jasper through the play too.

During intermission Jessica talked my ear off while Jasper excused himself. At least I didn't have to say much, but sitting with the girls was dull and ate up my time to find Ali, and I wished he'd taken me with him.

He didn't even bring any snacks back.

The second half went pretty much like the first, with Jessica grabbing at my wrist again while some fairy-folk were talking, except that that time she didn't let go.

Her palm was warm and slightly moist, and her fingers wrapped all the way around my wrist to press against my pulse. It wasn't tight or anything but, still, she wasn't letting go.

What was she doing?

I tried not to draw attention to it, looking at her in my peripheral vision, but she seemed like she was just watching the play. I wriggled my hand a little, in case she'd forgotten she was holding onto me or something, but then she just slid her fingers forward, trailing them along my palm until her fingers slipped between mine.

No, really. What the fuck was she doing?

I shifted my hand again, and my whole arm with it, but I couldn't easily pull away. Then she just started sweeping her thumb across the back of my hand in a very Jasper-esque gesture, except when she did it, I didn't like it.

One sidelong look at Jas told me he was obviously aware of what Jessica was doing. And If I hated Jessica grabbing me, I hated it even more with him watching.

Next, I tried a different approach, letting my hand go as limp as possible, so that her curled fingers actually looked like an empty cage around my hand. It was getting ridiculous but I couldn't think of a way to extract myself without making a fuss or upsetting her. Come to think of it, those two would probably amount to the same thing.

It wasn't until a minute later, when Jas moved to get up, that I had a decent diversion to pull away.

I caught his sleeve and whispered, "Where are you going?"

He mumbled the word bathroom and then slid away, stepping past several people in the row who craned their necks around him as he passed. That struck me as weird, because for some reason I'd thought he'd gone to the bathroom during intermission. And when he still didn't come back after a whole soliloquy, and then a whole other scene after that, I was sure he hadn't just gone to pee.

What if something was wrong? What if he was sick? Or, I had an even worse thought… what if he wasn't?

I stood up and inconvenienced all the same grumpy people, completely ignoring Jessica when she tried to whisper-call after me, and made my way to the bathroom.

He was in there, which was a relief, but I was right. He wasn't peeing.

He was leaning his hands on the sink with locked elbows, letting his head hang forward so that his shoulders hunched up like goal posts. I reached for him, stepping up behind him quickly, but when he heard my steps his head snapped up and we could see each other in the mirror.

It was smudged with soapy handprints and other grime I didn't want to think about, but even in the dim light I could still make out his face. He was exceptionally pale, and the tips of the curls that hung in his face were dark and wet like he'd been splashing himself with water. His eyes were narrowed as he watched me, his lips were tight, and he looked more nauseous than anything else.

A quick scan of the urinals and gaps under the stalls told me we were alone, so I didn't bother to hold back. I ran one hand up and down his back and laid the other on his shoulder, trying to turn him towards me.

"Are you alright?"

He kept his eyes locked on mine in the mirror and took a moment before he gave one short nod.

"Are you sick?" I ran my hand up his neck, tucking his wet curls behind his ear and trying to get a better look at him.

"I'm fine," he said in an exhausted voice, but his body was tense underneath my hands and he seemed anything but fine.

"Jas, it's okay. We can go if you're not feeling well. I can get the car."

He rolled his shoulders, dislodging my other hand from his back, and stepped away. "I said I'm fine."

In that moment, with that tone of voice, I knew he wasn't sick. I knew there was something else wrong – something between him and me – and that's when I started to get a burning weight in the pit of my stomach. It felt like my own organs had doubled in size and were twisting themselves into knots.

I thought about it, I guessed I could see how he'd be angry with Jessica's antics and all, but I didn't see why he would be mad at me. The thought made me nervous, like a kid who couldn't remember if they'd cleaned up all their toys like they were told.

I swallowed, hard, but it only seemed to make my mouth drier. The silence stretched on and even though I could probably reach out and touch him, there seemed to be a chasm between us. He felt so damn far away that I almost thought I'd have to yell to be heard.

Except my throat felt too tight to do anything but whisper.

"Jas?"

No answer but his tense back.

"Jas? Are you mad?"

I watched him deflate, sloping his shoulders as he let his head hang forward again with a sigh. Even from behind he looked so utterly defeated. I just didn't understand why. When he finally turned towards me, it was to brush past me without even looking up.

"Come on," he mumbled, "let's just get back."

He reached for the door and my stomach seized up even more painfully. I couldn't let him walk back out there, to that black expansive room where we'd be so close but still unable to talk. I just couldn't.

I cleared my throat, just so it would work, and asked uncertainly, "Are you gonna stay this time?"

He stopped, fingers already curled around the door knob, and slowly looked back across his shoulder. The disappointment in his eyes was both chastising and dismissive, and his words were biting.

"Are you gonna hold her hand this time?"

"Jas, no," I said, halfway relieved he'd brought it up and stepping towards him, but he just turned back to the door. "Jas," I insisted, "that's not what happened."

His voice was low and icy. "That's what it looked like."

"She kept grabbing my hand, okay? It wasn't me. Why would I do that?"

The longer he kept his back to me the more frantic I felt, and his slow, even words were just proof of the distance between us. Even though he never raised his voice, I still felt stung like he had.

"I don't know, Edward. Why would you do that?"

Internally, I groaned. That was not how this conversation was supposed to go. This conversation wasn't supposed to be happening at all. I reached out for his shoulders, thinking that if I could just wrap my arms around him I could make it all better, but he so obviously didn't want to be touched that I couldn't even make contact.

I did step up behind him, though, trying to keep my voice low and unwavering like his. "I wouldn't. I spent that entire time trying to figure out how to get my hand back, I promise."

Finally, he looked up again, half-turning towards me, but his face was no less strained. "But why did it take you so long, Edward? And why'd you let her in the first place?"

"I just didn't want to hurt her feelings."

"Why not?" he demanded, and I was taken aback by what an un-Jasper thing that was to say.

"What do you mean, why not?"

His eyes narrowed meaningfully. "I mean, why are Jessica Stanley's feelings suddenly your top priority?"

He waited once he'd said it, watching me in absolute stillness. My first thought was that the answer was obvious: because we were nice boys. If we weren't so nice I might have given half the school the finger back in ninth grade, but I didn't because that's not who we were. Jas and I, collectively, were decent people who would never upset or offend anyone who didn't deserve it. And Jessica might be intrusive, but she wasn't cruel.

With my next thought, though, the writhing in my stomach slithered all the way up into my chest. The logic unfolded gradually in my brain, emerging from a haze and rippling down my spine with a slow horror. If Jas didn't think of us as a cohesive 'we', if he didn't know that I was loyal to him above all else, that I had been waiting all week for him to interrupt Jessica's long lunchtime rants, then he would think I chose her feelings over his.

That I chose her.

Jas's posture crumpled, and I wondered what he had or hadn't seen in my face that bothered him so much. He had his back to the door, but his shoulders were still so hunched that he looked like a strip of cracked paint, slowly peeling off an old wall.

"Edward," he whispered, more to the floor than to me, "… damnit."

I hovered in front of him like I didn't know where to touch him, or how. "You're my top priority, Jas. I promise."

"Then why?" he asked, in the same defeated whisper. His eyes would dart up to me every so often, but he wouldn't let me hold his gaze. "I don't know what to think, Edward. Even at home you're…"

He trailed off, letting his words and eyes drop, and I felt like no matter how close I stood I couldn't get through to him. He had obviously convinced himself of something, something I didn't even know was a concern.

Pressing my hands against his arms, I hoisted his shoulders back up against the door so that we could finally be eye to eye. Softly, with what I hoped was my most tender, encouraging voice, I asked, "At home what?"

At home, with just the two of us, everything was still great. Wasn't it?

He shook his head, trying to look anywhere but at me, but finally whispered, "You spend all this time in your head, and I don't know what you're thinking about, or why you won't tell me anymore."

It was like staring at one of those trick drawings, where you think it's a young girl and then someone points out the ugliness and suddenly it's an old hag. Jas had no idea what was going on in my head, and it was painfully clear that I'd fucked up. I'd been trying to find the perfect romantic gesture to show Jas that I could be a great boyfriend – that I was worthy of his love, if he ever wanted to give it – and instead I'd completely missed him unraveling right next to me.

In my rush of alarmed thoughts, I realized I knew one way to fix this, to convince Jas not to shy away from me. Except, this wasn't how I wanted to do it. Not here, in a dingy boy's bathroom at school, with everyone we knew sitting just outside the door. And certainly not with him practically coming apart in front of me.

He kept pursing his lips, like he was trying to hold something back, and maybe it was all in my head but for just a moment I thought his eyes looked extra-glossy. He just looked so pained, and I knew that every worry that had carved out a line on his face, every shred of self-doubt going through his mind, I had put them there. All of them. I had let him carry this misery all week, or maybe even longer, without even knowing.

And it had gone on long enough. I just couldn't let him tough out another night thinking I would choose anyone but him. Even if he couldn't say it back, at least he wouldn't have to doubt me. Us.

"Jas, look at me." He didn't. "Please?"

He tilted his head, obliging me just the tiniest bit, and watched me with every bit of guarded pain visible in his eyes.

"I have been thinking a lot," I began, and now that I was about the say the words, they were thick in the back of my throat. "About you—"

He cringed, ever so slightly, but I gathered up all my courage in one breath and soldiered on.

"I've been wanting to tell you that… Jas, I love you."

I strained my ears against the silence for his answer, but as soon as I'd said it, time seemed to stop. The earth stopped spinning, I held my breath as Jas stared at me with a completely unreadable expression, and even my heart stopped beating. I know it did, because I felt it come thudding back the instant Jas moved.

He slammed into me with so much force that I stumbled, and I felt him dig his face into my neck. It wasn't a soft gesture – he buried his head so hard I didn't know how he could breathe, and his whole body gripped me, clung to me, radiating tension.

Tentatively, I reached my hands around his back, but he didn't respond. I had no idea what was going though his head. He had hidden his face from me, and it left me at a complete loss.

"Jas," I said into his ear, because that's all I could reach, "I didn't—"

"No," he ground out, curling his fingertips into my skin, "don't you take it back."

"No," I swore, hugging him close. "I, I didn't say it for you to say it back. So, so it's okay. You just had to know, because, I mean, I thought we were on the same page. You and me. And Jessica's not on that page."

Ugh, I wasn't even making sense. I raised one hand into his hair, wishing I could convey my sincerity with just my touch.

"What I mean is, we're in this together. And I couldn't let you walk out there thinking anyone could get in the way of that, because they can't. Not for me, anyway."

I felt the moist warmth of his breath on my neck before he raised his head and pushed himself away. His eyes were wide and cautious, but held none of the desperation from before, and at least he was looking at me.

"I just wish you wouldn't let her think you were available."

I opened my mouth to answer – he knew how I felt about coming out – but he cut me off.

"You spend all of lunch talking to Jessica, and now you're letting her hold your hand in front of me. And I know it's mostly her, okay? I do. But I don't know why you let her. I don't know if you like having girls flirt with you because you feel more like a guy, or if being pushy is all it takes or—"

He looked away again, hiding the anguish on his face, and I knew that as he talked he was convincing himself of all his doubts all over again. It was so unlike him, my cool, confident Jas, to let these things fester. I had never seen him do this before but then again, I reminded myself, I'd never seen him in a relationship before either.

There was a tremor to his voice that made his whispers even more heartbreaking. "It just makes me wonder, Edward, if we happened because I was just… pushy."

As soon as he said the word, faint though it was, my breath caught audibly in my throat. So that was it – he though I saw our relationship as something I was roped into, as something to be compensated for. I was mildly offended that he thought I could be so easily swayed, but also horrified that he felt so… disconnected.

"Jas, how can you think that? I've told you how happy I am. I mean, I just said—"

"I know," he admitted quickly. "And I don't think it all the time. But sometimes, like tonight, I can't help but remember that, at first, you never really said you wanted to be with me. In the beginning, the only thing you actually said you wanted was to keep it a secret."

I remembered that conversation, when we'd agreed we were boyfriends, and I remembered the real beginning too, when he'd held his lips just barely off mine and told me to cut the miscommunication crap.

In retrospect, it was true that I hadn't given him a straight answer. And in all this time, it seemed, I hadn't gotten any better at communicating. These insecurities had been haunting him intermittently for who knew how long, all because I never got around to saying the right words. Which was terrible and negligent of me, because if there was one thing I knew for certain it was that I wanted him.

"Jas," I whispered, pressing one hand to his cheek and gently guiding him to turn toward me. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I never said it out loud, and I'm sorry I never told you that I wanted more before we kissed, or before I hurt my leg, even. And I'm sorry I'm not comfortable coming out, but that's not about you."

With my other hand, I pressed the crook of my finger under his chin and tipped it up, urging him to look at me and really hear what I was saying. I hoped that all my love and earnest devotion showed when I said, "I know it took me a lot longer than you to figure out what I want but I'm telling you, Jas, it's you. Only you."

He was staring at me so fixedly, so openly, and it sparked the hope that I was actually getting through to him. I felt flushed with urgency, and with what I was about to admit, but it was worth it just for the peace that was spreading across his face.

"I don't think you know," I added softly, "that when I told Ali about us, she called me out for glowing. Or that when I'm too wound up to sleep I, well, I remember you laying next to me. And it helps."

His voice was barely a whisper. "I didn't know."

Even in the dull light of the bathroom, the way his eyes were fixed on me made them look so intense, and so blue. The little creases around them had finally eased away, and he watched me with a brightness and hope that I realized had been missing lately. He slipped his hands up to my chest, his fingers inching up towards the hem of my shirt, and asked, "Will you say it again?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, not that." The corner of his mouth quirked up, just the tiniest bit, into a smile that was both excited and indulgent, and I knew what he wanted.

I had a flash of self-consciousness at having to say it again, face to face, but his thumbs slipped up to swipe across my skin, and I took comfort from the affectionate gesture.

"Jas," I said, taking a deep breath and looking into his eyes, "I love you."

His fingers reached higher, lightly rubbing that spot behind my ear, and he gave me the most intimate and tenderly lopsided smile I'd ever seen. "I love you too."

Then he kissed me, holding my face as I held his, and I focused all my energy into those few points of contact. His kisses were long and deep, barely leaving me time to breathe, but I was perfectly willing to give up air. I pressed myself against him even harder as, slowly, he wrapped his entire body around me. He tangled our arms and legs, and I thought that maybe if I held on tight enough we would never have to separate. His embrace held none of the desperation or tension from just minutes before, and was instead imbued with warmth and passion and love.

Above all, love.

Finally taking a breath, I took in his thousand-watt grin and reached up to tuck his untamed curls behind his ears.

He was about to say something when we were both knocked off balance and forced to spring apart to catch ourselves. I looked up, startled, to see an elderly man poking his head through the bathroom door. He was stooped over, with not enough hair on his head and too much in his oversized nose. He looked at us apologetically, pulling the door back as if keeping it away from us now would make up for swinging it into us.

"Sorry there. Did I hit you fellas?"

I said nothing, silently wondering what this man had seen, but he shuffled stiffly to the urinals without waiting for an answer. As he unbuckled his pants he said, without looking up, "You boys might as well see the end of the show."

Taking that as a good excuse, we both slipped out the door without another word. I walked closely beside Jas down the corridor, pushing thoughts of the geriatric man from my mind and recapping everything else that had happened in the bathroom.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"You do look nice tonight."

"… It was for you."

"… Thanks."

I walked a little closer, letting my shoulder bump his, before we reached the main auditorium again. We found seats – new seats – in a mostly empty row in the back. I sat casually, letting my knees fall wide, and Jasper did the same so that I could discretely slip my hand between the two seats and curl my palm around the back of his calf. As I did I heard Jasper hum, and it was only after he leaned more heavily into my hand that I started paying attention to the play again.

There were a bunch of people on stage in ill-fitting costumes. There was some girl – or guy, maybe? because even from the back his boobs looked uneven – who was making a big scene of absolutely refusing to die, and kept interrupting everyone else with "adieu!" over and over again. I was relieved to see some guy in a giant hat decorated like the moon, just in case Ali asked about it later.

After some dancing and a little bit more talking, the actors took their bows and did their call-outs to the drama teacher and the tech crews. There was a very localized burst of cheering for the lighting crew that I assumed was a Clearwater/Masen/Swan effort, and then finally the lights came up. I gave Jasper's leg a squeeze before pulling away, just for good measure.

We waited for most of the audience to spill out of the auditorium, and when I saw a clear path to Alice I jumped up to say a quick goodbye before she disappeared backstage. She was in a huddle of drama people, chatting, but spun away from them when she spotted me.

"Hi," she called excitedly, waving the hand that wasn't holding a bouquet of pink and yellow daisies wrapped in paper.

"Nice flowers," I said uncertainly. I'd thought flowers were just for the actors.

She beamed. "They're from Seth. He said it was a reminder of all our hard work, even after the play was over."

I had to give it to him, he knew how to make her happy. Why couldn't I be that smooth?

"They're beautiful," I told her, eyeing them. Up close they weren't just daisies, but I could only really name half of them. "And so were your sets."

"Yeah?" she asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. "One of the trees actually fell down during the dress rehearsal yesterday, and there was this huge crack and we all thought it would totally ruin the panel 'cause we didn't have enough time to paint a new one so Katie said what about real trees," she paused for a breath, "but that was impossible but branches weren't so we cut a whole bunch of branches from the woods and they looked even better than ever, don't you think?"

I laughed to myself when I realized the end of her speech held an actual question, because so for that moment it really felt like the old Ali was back. She would probably be like that all night, and I hoped Seth would be able to keep up with her. I told her again that her sets were great, and the moon too, and that launched her into recounting the design process besides that costume until her friends called her name.

"Oh," she mused, craning to look back over her shoulder. "I gotta run, Edward."

"Alice, wait."

"What?"

My eyes flickered to her bouquet again. "Could I, could I have a flower?"

She turned back toward me, finally still for the first time all night, and raised one eyebrow.

"Not for me, obviously."

She considered it for a moment, then asked, "Did something happen?"

I shook my head. "No. Sort of." I looked over her head and around us, wondering if anyone was listening in. "I just wanted to make a gesture, but it's okay. Never mind."

She rolled her eyes before grinning conspiratorially at me. "Of course you can have a flower. I was just curious. Which one do you want?"

"Not pink?" I said, hopefully.

"I wasn't going to assume," she said, primly.

Wiggling her fingers into the stalks of the bouquet, she grabbed one and started to pull out a yellow lily. It was wide, with a freckled orange center that faded out to yellow, tapered petals, and had several dark pollen buds sticking up from the center. It was vibrant, but not too feminine. It was perfect, but it seemed like the nicest flower in the bunch.

"Ali, it's okay, you can just give me a daisy."

Again, she smirked, and then pulled it completely free. "I'm pretty sure he'll like this one better."

Her friends called again from up on stage, so I said, "Alright. Thanks, Ali."

"No prob, Edward. Use it well."

I made my way back down the center aisle looking for Jas, but was cut off once again by the most persistent branch of the cheer squad.

"There you are," Jessica huffed, sliding awkwardly down a row of chairs to meet me. "You disappeared."

"Uh, yeah. We found seats in the back."

Lauren, who was hovering just behind Jessica, asked, "Who's the flower for?"

"Umm," I stalled. "Alice. She worked really hard."

_Please, please, don't say you saw me get it from her._

But Jessica didn't know where I got it, because her already exasperated face fell even farther. "Oh." She tugged at a strand of gelled frizzy hair and sighed lightly. "I thought they might be for, well, someone else."

"No. Why would I want to give it to anyone else?"

The girls exchanged a look, a mix of disappointment and anger, and I made it my sudden mission to get as far away from the conversation as possible.

"I gotta go," I said, before turning on the spot and hurrying down the aisle. As I walked, I tucked the stem into my coat, letting the flower poke out at the top but covering it loosely with my scarf. I didn't need anyone else asking who the flower was for.

I found Jas in the hallway outside the auditorium talking with Bella, Charlie, Sue and Leah. Bella was promising to send Seth right out, and waved as she slipped back into the theater. I spent a moment exchanging pleasantries with Leah over how well the play had gone before I politely announced Jas and I had to go.

"What's the rush?" he asked as we pushed ourselves out into the near-freezing night.

"Uh, Jessica was kinda pissed that we disappeared."

"Oh." He looked serious, but unperturbed. "Is it alright if I'm not sorry?"

"Yeah," I sighed, "it's alright."

My car was on the far edge of the lot, against some trees, and I told Jas I'd pull forward so he didn't have to crawl through the brush. As I leaned to get into the car, though, I felt the long stem of the lily push into my stomach and I immediately straightened back up. I definitely didn't want to end this night by giving him a molested flower.

He looked at me questioningly as I stood up, and even more like I was crazy as I unzipped my jacket, but the look on his face when he saw the lily was worth braving the cold. The petals were still unmarred, and were the only splash of color in the otherwise dark lot. Jasper's eyes were fixed on it, his mouth slightly open in surprise, but he didn't reach for it even after I offered it.

"It's for you," I said, redundantly.

Finally, he reached out, pinching it delicately between two fingers, and lifted it up to his nose. I hadn't even thought to smell it.

"It's beautiful," he told me softly, raising his eyes to catch mine over the flower.

I tried to figure out the best thing to say next, some way that wasn't too cheesy to tell him he was even more beautiful, but when he tilted his nose out of the flower and had its dark pollen smeared all over his face and I laughed instead.

"Come here," I said fondly, and slipped my hand under his jaw to steady him.

As soon as my fingers made contact, he pulled away, laughing and complaining, "Cold! Your fingers are cold."

I smirked and reached for him again anyway. "You're strong, you can take it."

He did actually let me wipe the rest of the pollen off, but not without a petulantly inconvenienced look that I knew was all for show, and a mumbled mention of extreme torture.

"There, all better."

"My savior," he drawled out with playful sarcasm and a smile, and I laughed again. Then, with a sly look, he got the idea to reach out with his own icy fingers, and I quickly slid out of his reach and into the car.

I was expecting more retaliation when he slid into the passenger's seat but instead he was sniffing the flower again. I noticed it was suddenly pollen-free, and he wiping his free hand on his jeans.

The ride home never warmed up, since the heater in my car was glitchy at best, but I sat on my free hand while Jas offered the flower up for me. It really did smell nice. Of course, he had to go and ask the one question I'd hoped he wouldn't – where I got it – and after a few failed evasion tactics I told him Alice gave it to me.

He snorted. "You just took it?"

"Commandeered. Nicely. Besides," I added, glancing at him as I turned onto the main road, "it was worth it."

I thought he might laugh, or scold me some more, but instead he just tucked his nose into the flower again with a look of contented self-indulgence.

"So, should I be thanking Alice or Seth?"

I turned to him, dismayed, and he let out a soft chuckle. Slowly, he slipped his hand across my thigh.

"You, mister, will get no thanks until your hands are a decent temperature."

I pulled my hand out from under my leg and wiggled my fingers menacingly at him, but since I'd been sitting on them he didn't flinch away when I brushed the back of my hand against his cheek. Instead he let his eyes fall closed with a soft hum and leaned into it.

The first thing Jas did when we got home was pull down one of Esme's slim vases and start the tap. He cut the stem down under the water – something I didn't even know you were supposed to do – and then carried the flower to his room.

I slid up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and nuzzling against his neck. If my nose was cold, too, he didn't say so.

"I'm glad you like it," I whispered.

"I do," he nodded, pressing back into me. "You didn't have to assault Alice's bouquet, though."

"I wanted to do something. My idea of romance doesn't usually feature the men's bathroom, you know."

"Edward," he said, spinning around in my embrace and rubbing his hands across my chest. "I don't care where you say it, as long as you do. And you mean it."

"I do," I promised, brushing my lips against his. "I really do."

Our next kisses were soft and sweet, languid but sincere. His plump lips slid across mine as just the tips of our tongues met. Each kiss felt like a tiny memento of affection, making my chest swell against his. When he leaned away, his eyes were a bright gas-flame blue that seemed to mirror all my happiness directly back to me, and I basked in it.

His soft smile tilted to the side as he added, "Besides, there are worse places."

I raised one very skeptical eyebrow.

"It could have been the ladies' room."

"Why the hell would we be in the girls' bathroom?"

"See," he said, looking smugly triumphant. "So much weirder."

I grinned broadly and shook my head. "You're ridiculous."

"But?"

I shook my head again. "No but – and. And, I love you."

He brought his lips back to mine and whispered, "And I love you, Edward."

* * *

**Review if you love love!  
And, as always, never-ending thanks to my beta Elvelethril, who helps me keep my compound vs. hyphenated words straight :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.**

* * *

_"No but – and. And, I love you."_

_He brought his lips back to mine and whispered, "And I love you, Edward."_

* * *

It was December fifteenth, at two minutes to five, and the Cullen family and I were crowded around Jasper's computer. Even Rosalie was there, though she hung back like family was a communicable disease.

Jas and Esme had been checking the mail every day for over a week for Cornell's letter, with absolutely no luck at all. It wasn't surprising – when had an admissions committee ever been early? – but the point was moot now. Jas was logged into their website with his personal ID, and in just one more minute every early decision candidate would find out if they would be braving the slopes of Ithaca for the next four years.

Esme could barely contain herself. She stood beside Jasper's chair with both arms wrapped around his shoulders, watching the screen anxiously and asking if he could hit the button again. I stood on his other side while Carlisle peered directly over his head. Jas, for his part, sat in his desk chair like he was waiting for any old site to load, except that his hand hadn't left the mouse since he sat down.

We all stared at the unassuming time stamp in the corner of his screen, and the moment the clock hit five-zero-zero Esme patted his arm urgently.

"Now, honey."

He obliged, clicking the pointer that was already poised over Refresh and…

Nothing. Same old standby message.

After several more fruitless clicks the page paused on a blank white page, taunting us, and I heard Esme suck in a deep breath.

Slowly, a picture of the campus faded onto the screen and then, with cheesy flash animation effects, a large cursive script scrolled across it reading: Congratulations!

That was all we needed. Esme threw her arms up, squealing in that way girls do even though she was a grown woman, and Carlisle shook Jasper's shoulders heartily. Jasper, for his part, sat completely still and instantly flashed his bright blue eyes up to mine.

I recognized his neutral face, the one he wore when he deliberately held back, but I was delighted to watch as the caution and shock gradually slipped away. I beamed down at him, my smart, motivated and beautifully excited Jas, and caught just a glimpse of his matching smile before he was pulled up into one of Esme's bear hugs.

She was going on in his ear about how she knew he'd get in and how happy she was, and Carlisle put an arm around each of them, pulling them against his chest to say how proud he was.

It was amazingly heartwarming, being privy to all this unrestrained happiness and familial love, and I couldn't remain unaffected by it. My chest swelled with pride and affection, and once again I couldn't believe I was lucky enough to be dating someone so talented and sweet and who, more than anyone I knew, deserved this kind of good fortune.

As the congratulations went on, though, I couldn't help but feel a little removed from it all. Not because it was impossible to squeeze past Esme to hug him myself – I would have plenty of time for that later, when I could congratulate him in far more intimate and pleasurable ways – but because when I watched the Cullens, I knew this could have been a day in the life of the Masens.

If Mom had never gotten sick, if Dad had never withdrawn into a bottle, if Ali never had to feel scared… that could have been us. Mom would have been obnoxiously enthusiastic about my college apps and Dad, the way he used to be, would have helped me edit them all. And when my own admissions letters came in, Mom would have smothered me with all her ecstatic hugging. The Cullens and the Masens would have been to identically happy families. It was too late for all those 'if's though.

That knowledge panged somewhere deep inside, but didn't have time to fully resonate because Carlisle reached out a hand to grab my attention. He grinned at me over Esme's head and thumped me heartily on the back.

"Now we're just waiting on you, Edward."

I mustered up a smile, grateful that if I couldn't have my own family, at least I could share the comfort and warmth of Jasper's.

"And next year," Carlisle continued, turning around, "Rosie—"

But all we could see of Rosalie was her platinum ponytail walking out the door.

Carlisle signaled Esme, who quickly followed after her, but he refused to let the mood drop. "I'm grilling steak tonight."

"Steak," Jas exclaimed, sounding more like he'd been offered candy than slabs of beef, and Carlisle chuckled.

"I had a feeling we'd want something special." Then, giving Jasper one last shoulder-squeeze, he added, "Dinner's in an hour."

I nodded, not caring about food at all and focusing, instead, on Jas's exuberant smile. I didn't get the chance to say anything, though, because we could hear Esme's voice from the hallway.

"I'm sure your brother won't mind." She stuck her head into the room. "Jas, Emmett's going to join us for dinner, okay?"

I wondered if Jas actually did mind, because this was his good news and inviting Emmett was just Rosalie's way to pretend nothing had happened, but he just nodded.

Esme pulled herself back out into the hall, and I flung an arm out to casually slap against the door. Behind me, I heard the door creak mostly closed, but not all the way.

I raised my other arm too, eager to wrap them both around Jasper's neck and congratulate him with my kisses, but I hadn't even reached him when the door whooshed open again.

"Door open, boys," Esme reminded us.

I smiled tightly.

"Carlisle's about to start the steaks. Edward, could you do the table?"

"Sure, I'll be there in just a sec."

"Great, thanks."

I turned back to Jas, defeated. "Geez," I said, rolling my eyes and grinning. "God forbid we get a moment alone."

He nodded with only the hint of a devious smile. "Who knows what trouble we could get into."

I placed my hands only lightly on Jas's shoulders and, with each step I took, I nudged him further backwards with my toes. He let me get a few steps in, slowly coercing him to the section of the room that wasn't visible from the half-open door, before he grabbed my waist and pulled me the rest of the way. I practically fell into him, but didn't mind enough to even straighten myself back up.

I heard my voice take on a rougher quality as I asked, whispering, "I dunno, what kind of trouble did you have in mind?"

His fingers gripped my hips, and I felt him inhale deeply before he pressed forward to kiss me. His mouth was warm, and wet, and I pushed my tongue against his eagerly. He slid open-mouthed kisses under my chin and whispered, "I'm sure we could come up with something really devastating."

The way he paused and enunciated that last word, like he was already lost in a world of lewd thoughts, made my entire body tense with anticipation. Some parts more than others, of course.

The universe absolutely refused to let us have a moment alone, though, because just a second later I heard more footsteps in the hall, and I just knew they'd be Esme or Carlisle coming to get me.

I grabbed Jas's face in my hands and gave him a firm, lingering kiss. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do. "Until later, when I can congratulate you properly," I said, trying to look as devious as he sounded.

"Mmm," he kissed me again, but smiled through it. "I can't wait."

I had to readjust my pants before pulling the door completely open and headed to the kitchen with Carlisle, who'd come to warn me to set salad plates with dinner.

Carlisle hummed as he brought piles of meat out to the grill and Esme was off in a happy daydream while she tossed the salad. Even Emmett was in a good mood when he showed up, joking about how Jasper must be really smart if they let him in four months early.

However, no one's smile could even hope to outmatch Jasper's.

His dimples were out in full effect, and he was quietly but steadily beaming as he piled mashed potatoes on his plate. As always, a happy Jas meant a playful Jas, and soon enough he was sculpting a drawbridge and turrets into his potatoes. He even got so far as sticking a celery stalk into mine – the spire of my own edible castle, I assumed – before Carlisle cleared his throat.

"I'm pretty sure college students don't play with their food, Jasper." He was biting back a grin as he said it, so Jas's glow didn't fade. I was, however, forced to sculpt my own castle from then on.

Emmett and I eventually got pulled into a conversation with Esme about our own college choices and it wasn't until I mentioned my own app to Cornell that Rosalie finally spoke up.

Her hand hovered over her fork and her eyes were fixed angrily on me. That intense blue that made Jasper's eyes seem so passionate just made her look even colder.

"I thought you were set on Princeton." The way she said it made it sound like an accusation.

I paused before I answered, especially since Rosalie and I so rarely ever spoke directly.

"I'm allowed to change my mind," I said evenly.

Her eyes widened, slowly, and then her nose wrinkled up. "Oh my god. You're following my brother to college, aren't you?"

Carlisle said her name warningly, and Emmett turned to her, whispering, "Babe," but she never stopped glaring at me.

I glared right back. I already felt weird about following Jas to school instead of being as independent as I'd planned, but there was no way in hell I would apologize to her.

"No—" she started again, and was cut off by Esme patting her hand and shushing her.

"Not tonight, honey."

Rosalie pursed her lips and stared at her lap, looking very much like a kid who was holding in a tantrum, or tears. In a quiet, girlish voice she asked, "May I be excused," but didn't wait for an answer.

It was exactly like it always was. Rosalie caused a scene, Carlisle was annoyed and Esme was concerned, and then Rosalie rushed to her room. This time, though, Emmett was left looking awkwardly at Carlisle, who waved him out of the kitchen before he even had to ask.

Dinner degenerated from there, of course, because no one could ruin a mood like Rosalie. Jasper and Esme quickly sequestered themselves to talk, and I started to clear the table. I was just finishing up when Carlisle came in from scraping the grill.

"Edward," he said casually, and motioning back to the table. "Could we talk for a moment?" He was giving me that unpleasant-business smile he had perfected for his patients.

"Sure," I said, and hesitantly pulled out a chair.

"Esme and I were hoping you could cut Rosalie some slack."

"I haven't—"

"I know," he said calmly, holding up a hand. "And we're going to have the same talk with her. But the family's going to be spending more time together over the holiday, especially in New York, and we just want everyone to try to get along."

"Fine," I said, a little sulkily, and settled back in my chair. I didn't see how I could do anything differently.

"Have you thought about telling her what's going on with you and Jasper?"

That was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. "Wouldn't that ruin any chance of us getting along over Christmas?"

He let out a long sigh, and rested back in his own chair. The professionalism was gone, and suddenly he looked a lot more like just a tired father. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

I avoided his eyes, staring instead to his left at a rooster-shaped clock that Esme adored. The kitchen was silent except for its ticking as we both pondered our own thoughts.

Eventually, he patted a flat palm on the tabletop. "We'll just all do the best we can, alright?"

"Sure."

I had already finished all my homework and changed for bed by the time I heard Esme go upstairs, and I found Jasper sitting on the edge of his bed. He was still fully dressed.

"Long talk?"

He looked up at me, startled, and a sleepy smile spread across his face. It was just enough to show off one of his dimples. He reached out for me, and when I got close enough he slipped a hand behind my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. Then he scooted backwards and patted the open space in front of him.

I turned and sat myself between his knees, and he snaked his arms across my bare chest.

"Mom asked where I got the flower," he said, hooking his chin over my shoulder, and I craned my neck to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. From the corner of my eye I could see the lily displayed on his dresser. It was just beginning to wilt, but over all still looked pretty good.

"And?" I mumbled into his skin.

"And guess what she called us?"

I groaned playfully. "She did not call us cute."

"No, worse. Remember when Emmett starting coming over?"

I groaned again, but in sympathy. "Oh god, that was awful." Esme had called Emmett adorable – to his face, no less – until Rosalie made her stop. "Remember the fuss she made when he gave Rosalie his letterman jacket?"

"Ugh," he agreed, bumping against my back with his silent laughing. "I think that's just her word. It probably means something else in mom-speak."

I agreed, and leaned back into him as his laughter slowly faded.

"We talked about Rose, too," he added, soberly.

"Yeah, your dad brought it up. He wants everyone to be on their best behavior."

"I really want to tell her, Edward," he said softly into my ear. "Maybe if she just knew why we're always together, and applying to the same school…"

I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so, Jas. She already hates that we're friends, I don't see how it would help if she knew we were more than that."

"But it should," he insisted. "I want her to like my boyfriend. I'm tired of crappy family dinners and I'm tired of having to hide in my own house."

His arms were tightening around me, tensing, and I shifted one of my legs across his so I could turn to look at him easily. He didn't let go of me, though, and I rubbed a hand up and down his arm. It was a gesture I'd learned from him.

It didn't help, though, 'cause he wasn't worked up. Just disappointed. "I want it to be how it used to, when she was really my sister. I wish you knew her then. We used to get along really well, and she was only ever cranky when she was upset about something."

I wasn't sure about this other side of Rosalie because I'd never seen it, but the fact remained that these days she was a nightmare. "Jas," I said softly, "I don't trust her not to tell anyone."

"I do."

"How?"

His sad eyes watched me intensely. "Because we already do. Rose knows that your dad's AWOL, and that Chief Swan is getting custody of Alice, but there haven't been any more rumors at school than usual. Edward," he said, reaching up to take my hand in his, "she never told anyone about that first night you stayed over, when we took you to the hos—"

"Okay," I said, putting my free hand on his chest to stop him. He'd made his point. And, as much as I hated to admit it, it was a valid one. I'd obviously never talked to Rosalie about any of that stuff myself, but she had to know. And he was right, there were still a lot of things that no one outside this house knew. "Okay," I said again, and his eyebrows unfurrowed just a bit. "But your parents want us to all get along for Christmas, and I still think she'll make a fuss."

"Fine. After Christmas, then."

I sighed silently, still not any happier about the idea of letting Rosalie in on our secret. But I didn't think I could dissuade Jasper forever, and as long as she didn't go blabbing about it, it wasn't like we weren't dealing with her shitty moods already.

I was tired of thinking about her though, and used Jasper's shoulder to push myself up. "Come on," I said, "come get ready for bed."

I held out a hand to help him up too, but instead he slid to the edge of the bed and pulled me down onto him. I didn't bother to protest, straddling his hips and letting my weight sink down so that even though he was still in jeans he could feel my weight pressing down on the most sensitive parts of his lap. He tilted his head up to kiss me, and I pressed my bare chest against his thin shirt eagerly. Slowly, he dropped his hands to my butt, one hand on each cheek, and I could feel the tips of his fingers tracing along my crack.

Then, without warning, Jas leaned forward and pushed himself up off the bed. He still had one hand under my ass, but I wrapped my arms and legs tightly around him as he stood up.

"What are you doing?" I asked uncertainly.

His grin was smug. "Getting ready for bed. And you're coming with me."

As long as he didn't drop me, he could carry me anywhere. I kissed him some more while he guided us into the bathroom, where he put me down on the counter. The tile was cold under my butt and I squirmed as he went about his nightly routine. I handed him a facecloth when he washed his face and recapped his toothpaste when he left it by the side of the sink, but my thoughts were preoccupied by what was yet to come. It had been a couple days since we'd fooled around – not that long but, still, I wanted the night to be memorable. I wanted to touch and excite him, to tease him into oblivion before I finally coaxed him into a long, shuddering orgasm. He deserved it.

As he flicked the water off his eyes darted over to me, and then quickly down to my crotch and back again. I looked down too, only half surprised to find that my grey cotton boxers were noticeably, though not completely, tented. Jas placed a finger against my leg, lightly tracing just below the hem of my boxers until he reached the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

He was the picture of innocence as he asked, "So, what's on your mind?"

I nearly snorted. He knew damn well what I was thinking about, but it seemed like despite the conversation we'd just had he was still feeling playful. That just made me even more excited. Jas was my favorite person to play with.

"Me? Not a thing." I nodded to my eager little soldier. "He's got a mind of his own, though."

The edge of his smile quirked up, but it wasn't just smug or lustful, it was… amused?

"He?"

"Come on," I said hopefully, "don't you sort of think of yours as a he?"

He thought for a moment. "I guess, sort of. But it's not like I gave it a name or anything."

Aw, shit. _Don't ask,_ I begged silently. _Don't ask. _

He moved himself directly between my knees and was obviously fighting back a grin at my expense. "Edward," he started slowly, "Did you name yours?"

I swear, I must be dating the most infuriatingly perceptive person alive.

"Jas," I said, with maybe a whine in my voice. Just a little one. "Can we please not have another embarrassing bathroom talk about my penis?" Not only was it embarrassing, but I was starting to lose wood.

He couldn't be dissuaded, though, and the glint in his eye was no less amused or predatory. "We won't. Right after you tell me its name."

I sighed in defeat and stared past him at the fluffy blue towels by the shower as I mumbled, "Private Masen."

I had to give him credit for not laughing.

"Why that?"

"'Cause he's always, well, saluting…" _you,_ I didn't add.

His lips twitched again because, yes, it was kind of funny. But his thumbs dug gently into my thighs, and he had the glint of an idea in his eyes.

"So, I'm like your commanding officer then?"

I nodded. It sounded so much worse when he spelled it out like that, but yes. That was the general idea.

"So, like, Sergeant Cullen?"

The truth was, I had already thought of a name for him too, and I shook my head. I thought it would have been obvious.

"Lieutenant?"

It was my turn to smirk up at him. "Come on, Jas. There's a theme here." I knew it was juvenile but, really, we were naming our penises. There was only one name left that would fit, and I saw the recognition cross his face when he found it.

His hands slid higher, dipping under cotton and reaching even more tender skin, and his voice was just barely strained. "Major Cullen."

Bingo.

I swear I felt his eyes rake down my body, slowly, brazenly, and I had to actively stop myself from pushing forward when his fingertips reached the crease between my thighs and my body. I looked down to see his hands moving under the fabric, but instead of reaching out for my little guy, he dragged a thumb lower, teasing that miraculous inch of skin below my sack.

"Alright then, Private" he said roughly, letting the words roll around in his mouth as he said them, "At attention." And then his thumb pressed up, hard.

It was shocking, that pressure that sent a rush of pleasure through my legs and my dick and my ass, but not unwelcome. My whole body clenched – even my teeth as I let out a low groan – and I watched as my erection responded, pushing farther out against my thin boxers, and leaking a small drop that spread in a dark circle through the cotton.

Jesus, that's one way to follow a command. Already incredibly excited by his near-fondling, I met his eyes yet again and whispered, "Yes, sir."

I had just a moment to take him in, open-mouthed with lust-blown pupils, before he thrust himself forward and clasped his lips over mine. We had completely skipped any soft or gentle part of the night, and he pushed his tongue into my mouth insistently. My heels dug into his ass, pushing him closer as I tried to rock my hips forward to meet his.

I swear, I loved having a tall boyfriend. As his hands shifted to my ass to pull me to the edge of the counter, he was at the perfect height to slide his hard dick against mine.

He was still dressed, though, and that had to change. I grabbed at the edge of his shirt, dragging it up and across both our faces because he refused to stop kissing me. Then I made quick work of his button and fly, wrapping my feet around his thighs so I could drag his jeans out of our way. Next I shoved my hands into his boxer briefs, pushing them down and wrapping my hands around his firm ass. He groaned into my mouth, tugging at my boxers too, but they were stuck between my ass and the counter.

Bringing my arms up to his neck I pulled myself more tightly around him and demanded breathily, "Bed."

He hoisted me up by my ass, and I fumbled one hand over to the door as he took us back to the bedroom. As soon as we got to the edge of the bed he dropped his hands and, with my legs still around his, I let my body fall back onto the bed. He yanked on my boxers and I finally let my legs slip down as he pulled them completely off.

Then he was on top of me in my absolute favorite way – naked and hard – and I held his hips firmly as I thrust up against him. He was panting loudly in my ear, letting out a long, continuous moan, and digging his fingers into my arms.

I could feel his straining shaft dragging against mine, grinding against the head, and spreading the precum around with a slick, delicious feeling. I had rarely seen Jas go from zero to sixty so fast, but I was right there with him. And when he started his sexy mumbling it just made me even hotter.

So much for teasing.

"God yes. Harder. Touch me. Yes—"

The pitch of his soft cry changed, and I knew he was close. Too close. I didn't want to just dry hump the night away, I wanted to give him something new.

"Jas." I gripped his hips and stilled them. "Jas," I said again. He left his face buried against my neck and groaned. "I want to try something."

He lifted his head, looking both disgruntled and curious. The lights were on, which was rare for our nighttime activities, and I took the opportunity to take in as much of him as I could. He was flushed, the hair at his temples already wet and his cheeks pink. His arms were flexed on either side of me to hold himself up, lean but bulging, and his broad shoulders blocked my view of everything else. I could still feel the strength of him though, taut and muscular, with one thigh wedged enticingly between mine.

"Do you want to flip around?" I asked quietly, circling my finger in the air.

His eyebrows shot up, but I could tell he wanted to.

"Yeah?"

I tugged on his arm, and he started to push himself off me. We were both sweaty, stuck together, and the cool air of the room was a shock. Cautiously, he maneuvered until his knees were next to my head and then lifted one leg over my face. It was an entirely new angle.

Hello Jasper's balls.

I ran my palms up the inside of his thighs, and he scooted back to align himself. Then he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the bed and his hands on my own thighs, and slowly lowered himself into my open mouth.

I closed my lips around the head, sucking and caressing with my tongue, and let him slide further into my mouth. It wasn't long, though, before we hit a roadblock of sorts. That…

That wasn't going to work. I mean, I was trying, but I just wasn't that talented. In that position it was harder to breathe, and I could hardly take in half of him without choking. He realized it, and carefully slipped back out.

There had to be some way to make this work, if only I could move my neck more…

"Maybe…" Jas mumbled, and then he rolled off me. As he did he gave my hip a tug, and I started to get the idea.

Okay, operation sixty nine, try two.

With both of us on our sides, it was a lot easier. I pushed his thigh out of the way and went to work, sucking the head of his dick into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. He was quickly back to breathing heavily, and was leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses under my shaft and tonguing along the vein there. It felt fantastic, but I was straining to be deeper in his mouth, for him to stop taunting me and give me the pressure I was craving.

Instead though, I focused on him. I let one hand fondle his sack while I slid my lips down and back up, sucking all the while, bobbing my head in time with his heavy breathing.

It was different, being upside down, since none of my usual tricks had quite the same effect. There was one thing I'd been working on, though. I took a deep breath through my nose and slowly engulfed most of his length. As I rubbed my tongue against it, I could feel the subtle vibration of his soft moans teasing me even more.

When I got as far as I could go, almost all the way, Jas let out a deep, rumbling groan that I felt from my balls to the sticky tip of my dick. With another steady breath, I managed to swallow around him. I'm sure it would have been a lot more effective if I could really get all of him down, but it got the job done.

"Oh fuck, Edward," he groaned.

I bobbed deep a couple more times just to hear that sexy sound again.

With that, Jas was finally done teasing me, and was tonguing my head with strong, quick sucks that concentrated every nerve ending in my body to what was holding in his mouth. He heightened that even further by dragging his fingers through the wetness and caressing my sack and that sensitive stretch behind it. Jas's mouth and fingers were both hot, slick and working wonders, and I could feel my balls tightening as I wished the feeling would never end.

He let one finger drift further, tracing along my crack and circling my hole. He had been doing that more often lately, and I had gotten used to the extra sensation.

Except then he did something I wasn't used to at all.

He pressed harder, popping the tip of one finger into my puckered skin, and I tensed. He held my hip with one hand, rubbing tight circles with his thumb, and continued his assault of pleasure on my dick. This new move made me nervous, and it took me a few moments while Jasper stilled, but I finally willed myself to relax. He and I had been exploring each other's bodies for months, and I knew he was just trying to make me feel good. I didn't think he would push it in too far.

Until he did. I did my best to keep pumping my mouth along his thick erection while he wiggled his finger farther into me.

It was strange, feeling the hot pleasure from his mouth overlap with the tingling from his finger. It was foreign, and not entirely good, but not bad either. That is, until he curled his long finger.

I sputtered, pulling back and gasping. "What—?"

He slid off me with a slurping sound and looked up to study me with rapt attention. "Good?"

I nodded, breathless, so he did it again and my hips jerked forward on their own.

He grinned, and I knew I was at his complete mercy. Sliding his lips back over my flared tip, he started to suck me in earnest, all the while probing with his finger. I felt overwhelmed, like my orgasm was being forced from me – pushed from one end, sucked from the other – and I was so lightheaded I couldn't even focus on Jas anymore. I seemed to be leaking an endless supply of precum into his mouth, and I could even feel his tongue darting into my slit to wipe it away until, finally, it was too much to take.

My hips thrust one last time and I shot my load into his mouth. My eruption lasted ages, and I buried my face in the flesh of Jasper's thigh to muffle my cry.

After only a moment he pulled his leg from under me and crawled up the bed, trailing a hand across my chest and kissing me eagerly. I thought, again, that I really liked having the lights on because I got to see him like his. He was happy and flushed, beaming a crooked smile down at me, and so completely horny. His dick was a deep red, shiny with spit, and jutting out seductively.

"You're so sexy when you come," he whispered against my lips, and I moaned into his mouth.

"So are you," I whispered back. And that was something I wanted to see, ASAP.

I had to take a few moments to catch my breath, but soon I pushed his compliant body onto his back and slid myself down to drag my tongue up the underside of his erection. I left my hands on his chest though, ghosting across his nipples, until his entire body was squirming. Then I dragged my blunt nails down to his thighs, rubbing them firmly and trailing my thumbs to below his sack.

I couldn't tell what he was saying, but I could hear that he was muttering again, and that was always a good sign. I licked my way down to his balls, taking them into my mouth one at a time and sucking them leisurely in a way I knew drove him crazy.

"God," he moaned, "yes. Just like that."

I couldn't leave his dick unattended though, so I circled one hand around it, pumping it slowly and swiping a finger over the slick tip.

Then I switched, handling his balls and taking as much of his rigid shaft into my mouth as I could, just like before.

He moaned again, bucking his hips up, and I had just dipped my finger lower towards the not-quite-so-foreign territory when I felt his thigh trembling. I glanced up to see that his arms were flung out and taut, digging his fingers into the bedspread, and I was willing to bet his eyes were clenched shut.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing my strong, confident boyfriend on the verge of his release, and I wanted to keep him there. That didn't last long enough though, because soon enough both legs were shaking, and his high moans had lost any coherence.

Next, I pulled out one of my favorite moves, flicking my tongue rapidly just under the ridge of the head, before swiping it firmly around the whole thing.

He thrust up hard, tensing his hips in mid air, and pulled madly at the comforter while he came. He was biting back his moan, but instead let out stifled whimpers, while I caught jet after jet of his thick spunk.

He was still shaking when his hips fell back to the bed, and I sat between his legs and ran my hands over them soothingly.

After a few minutes he motioned for me to crawl up to him, and we both slipped under the covers. He held out an arm so I could press myself against his warm body, and I rested my head on his shoulder. He was still breathing heavily, and I felt the rapid but even beating of his heart as he curled his arm around me.

"That was awesome," he said with a sated sigh, and I grinned.

"Definitely. I had to congratulate you properly."

"Well, damn. Then I should get into college more often."

I laughed, and then settled myself against his shoulder again, still feeling warm and tingly all over. My mind was stuck on the part of the night that was new, the part that kind of weirded me out but felt so damn good.

_So that's the prostate. _

I decided not to say anything, though, and just enjoyed being so wrapped up in him.

"I like this," I said softly.

"That's what I'm saying."

"No. I mean, this." I stretched my arm across his chest. "Curling up in bed, falling asleep."

"We can do it every night, once we get to college."

I hoped so. "But, what if I don't get in?"

"You will."

"But—"

"Edward." He craned his neck to plant a kiss on my forehead. "You will."

"Alright," I muttered. "If you say so."

He wrapped his arm tighter around me, pulling me up so that I was lying across him, and I tried to match my breathing to the steadying rise and fall of his chest. It had a lulling rhythm, and soon enough it was nearly impossible to keep my eyes open.

"I'm sleepy," I whined, because that meant I was supposed to head back to my own room.

"Oh no," he sing-songed quietly, and then yawned himself. "As much as I hate to say it, I think Mom'll be coming in bright and early."

"I guess I should find my underwear before I go, then."

His chest bobbed with a quiet snicker. "Probably."

"Alright," I said, yawning too, "I'm going." But he was trailing his fingertips across my back, and I didn't even pretend to move.

His hand rubbed lower, and left a light smack on my butt. "On your feet, Private."

I tilted my head up to see him, and we were both grinning.

"You like that, huh?"

His smile grew adorably lopsided. "I like how you react to me."

That was impossible to deny. Just remembering how he commanded my body made me want to go for round two. I pushed myself higher up his chest so that I could meet his lips, saying, "Always." I kissed him soundly once and then, just for kicks, pulled back to add, "Major."

He kissed me back eagerly, and we spent the next few minutes kissing softly and sweetly like we hadn't done earlier.

I trailed my fingers through his damp hair, all curly from exertion, and pushed it back from his face. We were watching each other from across the tiny gap between our noses, and all I could see were his sleepy eyes, blinking up at me happily.

"I love you," he whispered, curling his arms all the way around me tightly.

"I love you too."

Jasper's embrace was too warm and comfortable, and I didn't actually roll myself out of bed until he could barely talk for yawning so much. He planted a sloppy, affectionate kiss on my lips before he let me leave, and I slipped on my boxers and switched off the light as I padded my way into the hall.

When I opened my door early the next morning to head for the bathroom, Esme's voice could be heard clearly from Jasper's room. Having an overly perceptive boyfriend had some perks, it seemed, like knowing how to avoid getting busted by his parents.

That day Jasper shared his good news with the guys at lunch, where Tyler professed his jealousy and Mike congratulated him. Eric, who hadn't even taken his SATs, couldn't have cared less.

The day passed quickly, and then we only had two more days 'til winter break. I couldn't wait. Even besides Jasper's good news, it had been a great week so far. All the teacher had given up on getting our attention, Ali had been going out of her way to say hi and Jessica, thankfully, had not.

In fact, I hadn't even talked to her to her since Saturday when I high-tailed it out of the auditorium. At first I thought she'd just had some cheer thing, since I'd seen those yellow ribbons in a bunch of girls' hair on Monday, but she had been avoiding me in English class too. As far as I was concerned nothing needed to change, and I just hoped I could make it to the weekend without having some awkward conversation with her.

I made it all the way through Thursday without incident but unfortunately, as I was rushing to English on Friday, I ran into her. Literally. She had still been stuffing things from her last class into her open backpack, and when I barreled into her I sent most of her books and binders flying.

I managed to catch her by the arms so she didn't go sprawling down the hallway too, and after she'd righted herself I leaned down to pick up her books.

"You don't have to do that," she mumbled, reaching for the same book.

"No, it's okay," I answered quickly, grabbing it and handing it to her. "I'm really sorry, I just didn't see you at all."

I moved further down the hall, picking up a binder and pencil case, and carried it back to her.

She was eying me speculatively, and I paused with her stuff held out. "What?"

She shook her head, letting her long curls cover her face. "Nothing, it's stupid."

I was content to let it go at that, but she still didn't take her things.

"Edward, why are you being so nice?"

Umm. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You were …" She finally looked back up at me, looking sadly determined. "You were sorta mean on Saturday."

I sighed heavily. This was definitely the encounter I was hoping to avoid.

"Look," I sighed again. "I'm sorry, I just…"

She was watching me so attentively, hanging on my words and just waiting for some good reason for me to be an ass, but I didn't have one. I had refused to talk to her when she had put herself on the line, but I didn't have an excuse to give her. The truth was that I just didn't care. Hers weren't the feelings I was concerned about that night. In fact, they still weren't my priority, so I couldn't think of anything to say.

Soon enough, she realized I didn't have an answer for her, and turned away. "Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed." She shook her head again, purposely not looking at me, and started grabbing the rest of her stuff haphazardly. I kind of wished she would blame me, that she would get pissed off and chew me out. I could deal with angry and pushy and loud. It was this quietly-dejected thing that put me out of my element.

Jessica grabbed the last of her papers before standing up and looking me straight in the eye. Even determined, she was still obviously upset. It occurred to me then that maybe she'd tried to hold my hand because she actually did like me. Maybe. I mean, she had always gone out of her way to be friendly. That's why I even dared to speak up in the first place.

"Jessica—" I started.

She stared up at me with these huge, resigned brown eyes. "No, Edward. I get it. I thought that maybe – I mean, I know you're shy."

I almost cringed. I had been so much better off never talking to girls. "I was just trying to be nice," I offered, apologetically.

"Nice guys don't lead people on."

Then, clutching her belongings to her chest, she marched into English class.

And I felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

I told Jas quietly while we walked to lunch, and now that everything had been settled he was sympathetic towards her. He still agreed it was for the best, though, and was glad I finally set her straight. His smile was subdued and understanding, but also grateful.

I had no intention of telling the rest of the guys, but by the time we were all waiting for Coach Clapp in the gym it became obvious that they'd all heard the day's gossip. Tyler ribbed me in the side, giving me shit for breaking another heart, while Eric wondered aloud if he could be her rebound guy.

Ty snorted. "'Cause that worked out so well with Bella."

Eric sighed glumly. "Yeah."

"I heard she's dating a wolf now," Mike added, and they all looked to me for confirmation.

Jas and I both nodded. Unfortunately, it was true. Ali had given me occasional updates, and Bella had actually gushed to Jasper about it. Supposedly, she was really happy, and Black was 'really sweet, once you got to know him.' I was still skeptical, because the Black I'd met couldn't sweet talk a bowl of sugar, but we'd both been assured that he was totally smitten with her and we had nothing to worry about.

Jas and I had still agreed that we would defend her honor if he even put one toe out of line.

Eric and Tyler continued to debate who had a better shot with Jessica, which was ridiculous because both of them were self-proclaimed players who never got any beside the occasional summer camp hook up, and even those may or may not have been fictional. The only one I thought might actually have a chance with Jessica was Mike, basically by virtue of not being Eric or Ty, but he threw his hands up and insisted he had no interest whatsoever. Somehow, the whole thing turned into a debate over who was more heartbroken which just made me uncomfortable, but it did make me think.

I hadn't meant to hurt Jessica, obviously, but Bella even less so. And I didn't really care if I ever got back into Jessica's good graces, but Bella was different. We had history – I'd thought we had a real friendship. And that wasn't something I had too many of.

I brought this all up to Jas after all the guys went out for pizza to celebrate the start of winter breaks, and he seemed pretty confident that Bella wasn't upset anymore.

"She just feels awkward, you know? She thinks she should have known."

I protested. "But I didn't even know."

"Yeah, I told her that. I think it helped to have Jacob Black around, actually. She sounds really happy with him," he added.

I hoped she was, even if it was with him.

Once we wound down into vacation mode it was time to plan our annual Christmas movie marathon, and Jas insisted there was no way Bella would miss that. Alice wanted to know if Seth could come, and we decided that that was fine but Jacob Black was absolutely not invited, and in the end the girls joined us alone.

Alice and I had agreed to do our own celebration after I got back from New York so that I could get her something from the city – or, The City, as Jas insisted it was called over there – so all she had to bring were some of our classic movie picks.

Both girls showed up in their pajamas, as per usual, and we started the afternoon off with none other than Scrooge McDuck. As was to be expected, though, we inevitably fell into a debate about when to watch Nightmare Before Christmas. I said October, Bella said December, Jas said split the difference and Alice said all of them.

In the end we watched it, of course.

Both girls spent a good portion of the day texting their respective boyfriends, and I was happy not to need my phone. It left my hands free for cocoa with candy canes, and playing with the wisps of hair on the back of Jasper's neck. I didn't dare try anything like that at first but Rosalie wasn't home and after a few hours of listening to both girls rattle on about all the cute things their boys had said, I had relaxed quite a bit.

Then, Jas slipped his arm across my shoulders.

Bella stared and I tensed, but Ali broke the moment by saying, "See, I told you. Movies are for cuddling."

Bella huffed dramatically. "Ali, it was one time. And he had a fever."

Alice dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Bella rolled her eyes before succumbing to them too.

I turned to Jas with a look that clearly said, 'Girls, they make no sense," but he was looking instead at Ali with a curiously appraising expression. He didn't say anything though, and I relaxed back into his side before turning back to the screen.

It was a very new experience, our not-quite-public display of affection. It was a far cry from cuddling, but it still made one thing very clear: I was with Jas, and he was with me. The strangest thing was how little a difference that made. It seemed like knowing where everyone stood, and that we all had boyfriends we were very happy with, was enough to dispel any awkwardness that might have lingered. The girls still recited all the lines they knew out loud, Jas still snuck bites of my candy cane after he'd finished his own and, for the fourth year in a row, we watched Jack Skellington denounce Christmas in favor of his true, ghoulish nature.

It was definitely an October kind of movie.

Once we all hit our sugar crash I drove Alice and Bella home, and we said our Merry Christmases to Charlie at the door.

After that, there was nothing left to do but pack. I'd had to borrow a suitcase from the Cullens, but they had plenty. I'd reasoned that if I wasn't going back to my old house for the only thing I really missed – Mom's picture – I sure as hell wasn't going back for some beat up suitcase with my Dad's initials on them.

Packing under Esme's directions was a flurry, and Carlisle laughed that night when he told us how early we'd all have to wake up. It was obscene. It was inhuman. It was never going to happen. He warned us that he'd be knocking on all our doors at five thirty, and even Esme gave him a grumpy look.

Knowing that didn't help me fall asleep any faster, either. I willed myself to relax, but I was too excited. In the morning I was going to New York. For Christmas. With my boyfriend.

* * *

**A thousands thanks to my marvelous beta, Elvelethril. **

**Also, we have a dilemma. What do you call a bunch of fanfic enthusiasts _en mass_? Fanfic'ers? FFer's? (Though it was pointed out that that sounds like a bunch of heifers, and I'd rather label myself as a cow, personally.) We need a good name people, that relates to fanfic in general :) **


	20. Chapter 20

**Nickname dilemma solved! The preferred collective term for us wordsmiths is Fictionistas, or, for gender-neutral alternatives, Fictionators and my personal favorite, Ficsters.  
More announcements and apologies for my lateness at the bottom. **

**Also, just because I've always wanted a reason to say this: It's Christmas in July!**

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play**.

* * *

_I was too excited. In the morning I was going to New York. For Christmas. With my boyfriend._

_

* * *

_

The flight was bumpy, which made me both nervous and more than a little nauseous. Some deep breathing and a ginger ale took care of my stomach, but my nerves were more persistent. Jas had pulled a blanket haphazardly across his knees so that he could fold my hand into his discreetly, but I still stared out the window trying to gauge if we were bumping along just slightly closer to the ground than before.

"Don't worry," he whispered, "I've done this loads of times. It's always fine."

"Well, I haven't," I answered tensely, not pulling my eyes from the window. It's not like I'd never flown, but that was when I was… six? Seven? Not all families were as well traveled as the Cullens.

"Hey, now." His tone was somehow both chiding and light at the same time. "Just take a deep breath."

Even though I was focusing too hard on the cut-and-pasted farms slipping past to bother with that, I could still feel his eyes on me. He leaned closer, barely nudging his nose into my messy hair, and his breath was hot and wet on the back of my neck.

"That's an order, Private. Breathe."

I smiled despite myself and pulled as much air in through my nose as I could manage before streaming it back out through my mouth. Then I turned to him. I think he liked giving orders, because his grin was way too smug. I considered kissing it off him, or at least insinuating that I would if we weren't surrounded by three-hundred-plus strangers and his sister, but half my mind was still preoccupied with tiny houses and hard ground dangerously far below us.

So I asked Jas for something to distract me. "What's the plan for your grandparents'?"

He stared beyond me, tracking a few passing clouds, before he answered. "Usually, actually, Rose and I team up."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that, which plainly showed on my face.

"Well. Sometimes Mom likes to go back to all her old childhood places. And those are pretty boring, so we usually spend the first night coming up with a bunch of things we have to do instead."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know. Snow angels, hot cocoa. A scrabble tournament, if we have to stay inside."

"But, that's all stuff you can do at home. Except, I mean, you don't."

He shrugged, which always made me skeptical, before he took a deep breath. "That's just what we always do. We still make cookies with Nan too, just 'cause we always have." He gestured vaguely, but his eyes drifted to the back of the seat in front of him. "It's just different when we're there. Rose and I usually have fun."

For the first time, I felt a little iffy about crashing the Cullen's Christmas. I bit the inside of my lip, briefly debating whether to say anything at all, but I was just too wound up. "It's not gonna be weird, having me there, right?"

It was moments like those that I fell in love with Jas a little bit more. Because instead of giving me some vague answer, or telling me not to worry so much, he shifted his whole body in his seat and grinned like a kid on his birthday.

"Are you kidding? We can have a proper snowball fight, and go sledding, and I'll get to show you New York." I could tell he'd thought about it alot, and even though his voice might have even been too loud for polite airplane conversation, it was the kind of enthusiasm that washed away my doubts like a Forks rainstorm. And I wholeheartedly believed him when he promised, "Edward, it's gonna be great."

Then he launched into the full Christmas schedule, and I gladly focused on that instead of the words 'terminal velocity'. The plan seemed to involve a lot of cooking, sometimes just for the sake of cooking itself and often for sweets Esme's mom could take to their church, but we'd have at least two days to make the hour-long drive into the city. He warned me then, as he'd warned me before, that the house would be pretty cramped with all seven of us, and that his Nan didn't have the memory she used to.

It was a lot to take in – schedules and activities, traditions and expectations – but that and his excitement took my mind off other things. It replaced what-ifs with certainties and chaos with order, and it helped.

We rented a car at JFK so his Grandpop wouldn't have to drive, and found ourselves in a town arguably even smaller than Forks. I was a little disappointed to have been in the wondrous New York City only to drive away from it, but I knew we'd be back there soon enough. Plus, as soon as Esme's mom flung open the paint-chipped front door and tried to hug the whole family at once I was distracted by the affection and the overwhelming smell of cloves.

Once all the Cullens had hugged Esme's dad as well, both sets of milky eyes turned to me. Jasper's Nan pulled her sweater a little tighter around herself and asked, "Who are you?"

I glanced to Jasper uncertainly before giving them a spectacularly awkward wave. "I'm Edward?"

"Now, Marge. That's Jasper's friend," his grandfather said.

"Mom," Esme spoke up, slower and louder than I would have thought necessary. "We told you he was coming. He was in the pictures, remember?"

She blinked. "He was?"

"Yes. You said you put them on the fridge."

"Oh," his grandma smiled and nodded. "He can come inside too, then."

Esme, Carlisle and Jasper all laughed, and we were told to leave our jackets and shoes in the entryway. Nan insisted that we have dinner immediately, which both I and my stomach appreciated. The kitchen was warm, the food was good, and after only a few minutes of searching I found my own face in the jumble of pictures covering the fridge.

Some were of people I didn't recognize, but most were various combination of the Cullen family, together and smiling. Nearly every school photo of Rosalie and Jasper through the years were proudly displayed too, and I got a kick out of seeing them both in braces. And sure enough, there was one of Jas and me, from the race track just this past spring, on a rare sunny day. In the photo we were sweaty, flushed, and pointing at a stopwatch that was impossible to read but clearly made us both ridiculously happy. That was the day Jas had beaten the standing two-mile record in Washington State, and was definitely a photo worthy of a refrigerator collage.

There was lots of chatter and story-swapping over the table, and Jasper's grandparents even stayed up past their bedtimes, but eventually they reminded Esme where all the spare bedding was and left us to figure out sleeping arrangements. Esme and Carlisle were in the guest room, of course, and the two twin beds for Jas and Rosalie took up nearly every square inch of Esme's old room, so that just left…

"—the couch, alright Edward?" Esme smiled as she held up a very faded set of ladybug sheets. "I think you'll fit just fine."

Okay, so it wasn't the romantic holiday getaway I might have envisioned, but it was still Christmas with Jasper. And a family.

Esme began stuffing pillows into mismatched cases, but kept her eyes on me. "Edward, Nan and Grandpop have a habit of getting up for water in the night."

"Alright."

"That means they'd come right through the living room."

I tossed a sheet out across the sofa and let it flutter down. "It's really fine, I'll probably sleep through it."

She dropped the pillow onto the cushions and watched me keenly. "I'm saying, you won't really have much privacy. And that's something you and Jasper should be aware of."

It took me a moment to realize what she meant, but as soon as I did – gah! That was so the last thing I expected her to say, and I immediately felt my face flushing. I mean, _thanks for the warning and all but…_ did we really have to talk about it? She was poised like she was waiting for an answer, and so I awkwardly said the first thing that came to mind.

"Thanks."

She raised one **scrutinizing** eyebrow.

_Shit. _"I mean, we wouldn't – we're not –."

Esme's eyes flickered to the doorway and she interrupted me with a bright, "Hi, Sweetie."

I turned, hoping to see Jasper and rope him in to share my mortification, but instead found Rosalie. Glaring, of course, because that's what she did best, but not at me this time.

"Why do you always do that?"

Esme raised the other eyebrow too, blinking innocently at her daughter, and no matter what she had or hadn't done, I had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well.

"Uggh," Rosalie groaned, and started stomping towards the kitchen. "Whatever. It's not like I care about your secrets anyway."

Huh. I hadn't noticed Esme being secretive. Then again, it had been pointed out that I was maybe not the most perceptive guy around, except Jasper hadn't mentioned anything either.

Luckily for me, Rosalie's attitude took precedence over my sleeping arrangements and Esme followed her into the kitchen. Not before giving me a pointed look over her shoulder, though.

And by pointed, I really mean pointed. Boring through my brain and annotating my most private thoughts, pointed.

The rest of the Cullens went about their business and said goodnight while I got myself settled in. If there had been a ton of snow I was supposed to snap a picture and send it to Alice, but there wasn't. I texted her anyway, promising to send pictures of the grand and mysterious New York City, but that only took a few seconds. Eventually Jasper flopped down next to me on the couch-turned-bed, and I told him what his mom had said.

His nose wrinkled up. "That's so gross."

I nodded. "I know. I wouldn't want to crawl into bed with me either."

"Hey," he laughed, elbowing me but also leaning his head against my neck for just a fraction of a moment. Again, I felt that little ping of accomplishment for making him happy, and smiled down at him. "Don't worry," he added quietly, leaning in close, "we'll find plenty of time for that stuff, somehow."

His shoulder pressed into mine as he slipped up closer to kiss me, just once, before he pulled back with a lazy grin. It quickly turned suggestive though, almost lascivious, until he finally wiggled his eyebrows like a bad Groucho Marx and we both laughed.

We talked for a while, keeping a friendly, grandparent-safe distance away, until we were once again interrupted by Rosalie. She leaned in the doorway, wearing pink-starred pajamas with long sleeves that she tugged on, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

Eventually, she settled her gaze on Jasper and said, "Are you going to bed soon?"

"Not yet."

"Oh. Well." She pushed her hair behind an ear and said more firmly, "I'm turning off the light."

They watched each other, communicating on some Cullen wavelength that I couldn't hear or understand, until Jasper finally answered.

"I'll be in soon."

"Whatever." She huffed, straightening herself up and looking far more like the Rosalie I remembered. Her fingers stopped tugging at her sleeves and rested haughtily on her hips instead. "I just wanted to know if we're doing penguins tomorrow."

"Oh," he answered cautiously. "I don't know." Then he looked to me. "Edward, there's this zoo with a whole bunch of penguins—"

"No!" Rosalie said, with more than a hint of a whine, and I watched her fold her arms across her chest and resurrect her briefly-forgotten glare. "Nevermind. I don't want to anymore."

It was mere seconds before we heard her shut herself in her room, and Jas flung himself back on the couch cushions with a heavy sigh.

"I should go talk to her."

Eh. Not the plan of action I would choose. "About penguins?"

He rolled his head so that he could look up at me. "They're a tradition."

A tradition she obviously didn't want me involved in. I slumped in my seat next to him and, despite how early it was in our own time zone, I yawned. Then he yawned too, because those bastards are contagious, and he stretched both arms high above his head.

I almost snickered when his arm came down around my shoulders, mostly because I felt like the date at a movie with the boyfriend who was trying to cop a feel. I knew I couldn't laugh, though, because the truth was I fell for his charms every time.

So I snuggled into his side and snuck a quick kiss to the smooth underside of his chin. He shivered a little, but let out a soft hum of contentment.

I let my eyes fall closed and whispered, "I love you."

He hummed louder, twisting his head to press a wet, lingering kiss to my forehead. "I love you too, Edward."

It was over too quickly, because there was a sister to talk to and a pretense to keep up, but almost as soon as I crawled into bed I fell asleep thinking about the special kinds of kisses that were reserved for foreheads.

And as it turned out, his Nan and Grandpop's bladders were smaller than a wet sock, and I heard their multiple bathroom-kitchen-bedroom trips from my makeshift bed on the sofa.

The morning was chaotic with Carlisle checking maps and schedules and weather announcements, and Esme assuring her parents that they'd be careful in the city. It seemed like that parental hovering never really went away.

The trip was pretty awkward with all three of us kids in the back seat, especially since Jasper took the middle in an effort to be diplomatic but instead ended up with his knees in everyone's space. Rosalie was in a pretty foul mood over not seeing the penguins, but Jas appeased her by promising to see them on the second trip into the city, and by talking about them. A lot.

I really didn't see the appeal. Waddle-waddle-swim, right?

But Esme distracted her with the idea of shopping and Carlisle had a friend at Sloan-Kettering to see, so Jas and I were free to plan our own day.

After heading in the opposite direction from the rest of the Cullens, Jas led me directly into the subway, which he said was the gateway to everything and anything. Of course, we couldn't decide which anything to go see, but I mostly just wanted to get a feel for the city. We tossed around a couple ideas, and Jas mentioned all the places he'd liked in the past, but eventually we decided to wander around and soak up lower Manhattan. That was, of course, after vetoing everything with the word museum in it, because I couldn't stand the thought of spending our day in marble buildings where we weren't allowed to talk. Maybe that made me uncultured, but that was a-okay with me.

Now, I knew New York City was big, I really did, and I was prepared to get there and be wowed by the vastness of it all. What I didn't know was that vast didn't even cover it. Avenues were as wide as Forks' highways, and walking two blocks over took twenty minutes. I didn't even know how long that was in New York Minutes. We were surrounded by people and skyscrapers and trafficky intersections, all more impressive and daunting than the last, and it dawned on me how very long it had been since I'd lived in a city.

At first I just walked along with my head straight back, taking in the extreme heights and angles of everything above us, until I bumped into one too many people and changed my focus to all the faces passing us by. There were just so many people, rushing and chatting and hailing cabs, and I think I saw more kinds of people in one city block than I had in all four years in Forks.

We were dwarfed by the size and speed and activity of it all, and I huddled close to Jasper at a stoplight to whisper , "We could get lost in all this."

He turned his head slowly and surprised me with a contented smile. Then he slowly trailed his fingertips down my arm until he gripped my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "I know."

So we allowed ourselves a fairly aimless course, stopping into stores when the wind picked up and our noses got a little too cold. We oohed and aahed as we shopped for Christmas presents in in SoHo and blatantly gawked our way through Chinatown until I thought my feet would drop off. After that, Jas said we could rest on the subway and led us slightly uptown to a burger place he remembered and loved.

Apparently he and Rosalie stopped by there at least once a trip, but when I questioned whether we might accidentally run into her there, he shook his head.

"Mom's dragging her to a bunch of pottery stores uptown. It's like her guilty pleasure or something." Then he rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, Mom has the worst idea of fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He patted his coat pocket. "She just texted me to bitch."

"Oh. That's… random."

He looked away, focusing on the sidewalk in front of us. "I told you. When we're here, it's different. Mom and Dad get kind of overwhelming after a while so it's, like, we're united by a common goal. Of fun, and not salting the driveway and stuff. Like kids versus parents."

"So, are you supposed to be saving her from shopping with your Mom, then?"

He shrugged, and while I knew that was the ultimate non-answer, I didn't want to dwell on it enough to press the topic. Within a few moments we'd pushed ourselves through the glass door of a small but toasty diner, and pulled off our gloves and scarves.

Maybe it was just because we were exhausted and starved, but the burgers were fantastic. The desserts looked even better though, and I think we spent longer staring into the pastry case than we did eating. Jas went for the classic cheesecake, but I ended up with a layered peanut butter-chocolate cake, complete with a peanut butter cup on top. It was Christmas, I figured, and therefore perfectly justifiable to indulge in ridiculous sweets.

I started with a tiny bite, just enough to coat my tongue, and fell in love with the diner, the cake, and the unknown man who had made it all at once. It was rich and decadent, flaky and salty swirled into sweet creamy chocolate, the best of both worlds. I closed my eyes to focus all my attention on the complex flavors, because it was just… mmmm.

"If I'd known you were going to molest the cake, we could have gotten it to go."

I popped one eye open to see him smirking crookedly at me. He added, "Plus, I'd kinda hoped those noises were just for me."

"What noises?"

He snorted. "That must be one fantastic piece of cake."

That sounded like a challenge, or maybe just a request. Either way, I raised one eyebrow. "Want some?" Of course he did, and for Jas I would share the best part, so I snapped off half the gourmet peanut butter cup with my fingers and put it on his plate.

But he didn't move. I waited for him to say something, or reach for it and feed himself, but instead he just looked meaningfully between his plate and my hand. Then, with a devilish smugness that even showed in his eyes, he let his mouth drop open.

"Jas…" I warned, but he didn't care. He made his obvious glances again, even accentuating them with his eyebrows, and held out his tongue just enough for me to balance my peanut butter on.

Reluctantly I picked it up, intent on dropping it into his mouth as quickly as possible, but he didn't even lean forward. He made me come to him, all the way to him, and even once I got there he closed his lips so narrowly that I actively had to push the bit of chocolate past his lips with my fingers. I watched them go, somewhat transfixed as they disappeared into his hot, chocolatey mouth, but as soon as I felt him grab the piece with his teeth I pulled my hand back sharply.

That was dumb; dumb of me to give in in such a crowded place and dumb of me to be so distracted by it. I wished he wouldn't put me in those kinds of situations.

Jas chewed happily, but my love of cake was dissipating and I eyed him from across the table. "That was entirely unnecessary."

"It was fun."

"It was reckless," I insisted.

"Edward," he answered, dropping his voice to a softer caliber and sliding one hand across the table towards mine. "It was fine. We're allowed to share cake in public."

I huffed, because that was not at all what we were doing, and he curled his fingers away from me.

"Look around, Edward," he gestured broadly with his other hand. "No one's even watching. No one cares."

I looked up hesitantly, afraid to meet angry or condemning eyes, but he was right. I studied the room around us, finding students and businessmen and even families with small children, and not a single one was looking at us. No one—

Wait. Oh god. There was one table, and they were blatantly staring. I felt myself grow hot with embarrassment, and I tried to sink below the collar of my jacket. "They care."

Jas twisted in his seat to see the offending table, but that only encouraged them more. There had to be at least five of them – all girls about our age, maybe older, looking like locals in their trim peacoats and berets.

And every single one of them was grinning. One, a blonde in a purple scarf, was hiding her mouth behind her hand and giggling.

I sort of wanted to die.

Jas, though, took it in stride and raised one hand to give a little wave. They waved back, nearly in unison, and I sank lower.

At that they all laughed, even Jas, and he turned back towards me. His cheeks had a slight flush to them too, but his eyes were crinkled and happy.

"I know you aren't that good with girls, Edward, but I don't really think that's the kind of attention you're worried about."

"They're still looking," I confirmed lowly with the briefest glance, but Jas didn't care. He unfurled his fingers, offering his palm to me and hoping I'd accept it.

Carefully, I raised by my hand up to the table beside his, and looked around the small room once again just for good measure before tracing one finger along his lifeline.

He hummed, and his smile relaxed into lazy contentment. We both watched as I traveled every crease in his palm and eventually started making up my own designs. After several of those passes he twisted his hand up to grab mine and pulled it across the table. Before I could say anything he had the back of my hand raised and pressed to his lips, where he left a slow, wet kiss.

Then he said, "Finish your cake and let's get out of here," and picked up his own fork.

I grinned. "It's good, right?"

"Mine's good, but that," he jabbed the air in my direction with his silverware, "that is amazing. It's like sex on a plate."

"Not that we'd know," I said without meeting his eyes, so softly that only Jas could hear. "Yet." And while he gawked a little I pushed my plate into the center of the table so he could have some more.

Once we'd licked every crumb off our plates and Jasper dropped some bills on the table, he stood up with his hand outstretched. I took it, because he wanted me to, and because I could keep my back to our little audience.

"I've got an idea," he said, swinging our hands between us. "You need to see the Empire State Building."

"How come?"

He looked at me like that was totally obvious. "It's huge."

"What, like phallic or something?"

He laughed, loud and belly shaking. "Well, aren't they all? But no, it just has a great view from the top." Then he tilted his head to breathe into my ear. "Though, if you've got something phallic on your mind, _Private_."

He finished his sentence with a quick peck to my cheek, and I could've sworn I heard a squeal behind us.

"You're one to talk, Maj."

His look told me that the chocolate and peanut butter had gone to my brain. "Mage? Am I magic now?"

Hmm. Well, it made sense in my head. "No, like Sergeant, Sarge. Major, Maj. Right?"

"Huh," he said, contemplating it as he turned us left out of the diner. "I'll take it."

A quick metro ride got us to the Empire State Building, and an equally-long elevator ride got us to the top. It wasn't automatically clear exactly how high a hundred and two stories was, but a hazy horizon in the far, far distance bumped the word 'vast' another notch higher in my mind. Jas and I nudged our way to the edge, and pressed ourselves against the wide criss-crosses of the safety fence.

First I looked down, which in and of itself was enough to inspire vertigo, but after I reminded myself that my feet were firmly planted I simply stared in wonder. Jas, too, was slack-jawed.

"Have you been up here before?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "but it never gets old."

The wind whipped around us, and even with my gloves on I needed to shove my hands in my pockets. I huddled into my coat, trying to scrunch my neck so my scarf would reach up to my ears, and looked beyond the crystalline clouds forming from my breath.

"Are you cold?"

I shook my hair out of my eyes and nodded. "It's okay, though. That which does not kill me…"

"Oh shut up," he ordered playfully, and sidled up closer. One arm came up around my shoulders, trying to rub some warmth into me, and I was chilled enough to be grateful.

Together, Jas and I stared out into the famous city.

"It just goes on forever," I finally said, quiet with awe. It just… building after building after building. So many, stretching on for so far. I swear, even on such a clear day, my vision reached its limits before the city did. And each tiny car and miniature window held a life, a person that I knew nothing about and would never meet, all going about their business completely unaware of the tourist boys watching them from top of the Empire State Building. Even the Cullens were out there, completely removed and invisible. "I feel like if you took away all the buildings, we'd just be staring at thousands and thousands of people, all jumbled together," I told him.

He nodded with his nose buried in my hair. "Millions." His voice was subdued, and I knew the city had the same effect on him.

"It's sort of humbling," I said. He craned his head back to look at me, so I added, "in a good way." I inspected the skyline in search of the right words. "It seems like we're really small, but that's because we always were, even if we didn't know it. All these tiny lives bumping into each other, unaware of the million others around them."

Jas's arm slid along my side and I turned to see his wide, flame-blue eyes on me, intense and adoring. "I knew you'd get it."

I nodded, unsure of what to really say, and he swept his other arm out across the view.

"You can do anything, here. Anonymity is this city's greatest gift."

Then, with a sudden tug at my waist, he pressed his face close enough to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"There's people," I warned him, and not ones we were about to walk away from, but he didn't care.

With one gloved hand sliding under my jaw, Jas kissed me. Right there, on top of the Empire State Building, for all of Manhattan to see. It wasn't a polite kiss, either. It was a tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair, all-out kind of kiss, and it had already been too long since we'd had a moment to do that.

As soon as he pulled back, I flushed all over, noticing every pair of eyes behind him that were trained on us. Jas noticed too, and immediately brought the back of his hand up to my forehead.

"Oh no," he said, with mock worry, "did you survive?" His hands flashed all over me, patting my shoulders, ribs, and even face. "Is everything alright? All that public kissing…"

I tried to wrench out of the way when he started going for my butt, but I jumped when he managed to goose me and he laughed.

"Jas!" I said, shocked, but even I was having a hard time not laughing at his ridiculousness. I couldn't believe he would— right there, in front of— the nerve!

But he had. Instead of dwelling on the tourists watching us, he had expertly distracted into having fun. As soon as I realized that I punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder. "You're terrible."

"Yes," he agreed, catching my hand and pulling me toward him. He still had that shit-eating grin though, and it completely undermined his sincerity when he added, "Completely awful. I'm oh so sorry." But then his expression softened. "We don't have to hide everywhere, Edward."

"You're still evil," I muttered, but I let him hold me against his chest, hiding and not hiding at the same time.

Eventually we nabbed a bench and rested our feet while we waited for the sun to set. Then, once we watched the lights of the city swirl and shine around us in a rhythm older than electricity itself, we took the elevator down to do a little more sight-seeing with the Cullens, and I sent a whole string of picture messages to Alice.

By the end of the night everyone was exhausted, and Esme spent the first ten minutes of the ride thanking Carlisle for driving. Carlisle always drove anyway, but growing up in the boonies had obviously taught Esme to lament chaotic city driving and she said she was lucky to have married such a brave driver.

Jas and Rosalie both snorted.

The grandparents were already asleep when we got back, and all of us got straight into our pajamas. Jas snuck into the living room for a quick kiss goodnight, but neither of us could keep our eyes open enough for anything more.

The next day was equally exhausting, even though we didn't leave the house, and I started to realize why Jas and Rosalie felt the need to team up. Carlisle tried to recruit us into reorganizing the garage, and Esme fell into what was apparently an old habit of knitting with her mother, and insisted that all three of us try too. Even the games we tried to play – scrabble and balderdash – lost some of their edge when it got around to Jas's grandparents' turn. Not that they weren't perfectly valid activities, they just didn't scream 'Christmas' to me, and I was relieved when Jasper backed out of knitting by announcing that we had to try sledding while the one-inch of snowfall we'd gotten was still fresh.

I wasn't about to argue, and even Rosalie nodded like she'd made the plan herself. Unless, of course, that was just another tradition I wasn't aware of and she had already known it was coming.

They had a hill all picked out through the trees behind the house, and what started out as such simple sledding turned into an obstacle course race between the two of them.

Yup, another tradition.

I had snow in my boots long before either of them, and eventually told Jas I was going to go take pictures for Alice. He looked up from a small mound of snow he was shaping into a jump, and then pushed himself upright.

To Rosalie, he said, "I'm gonna go get some better gloves," and then jogged over to join me. Once we got into the garage he pulled some thick leather gloves from a drawer and said, "I'm just gonna finish the course with her, alright?" His voice wavered just slightly, like he kept changing his mind about whether it was a question or a statement. I wasn't gonna argue, though, so I changed my socks while he went back outside to make nice. I mean, make a snow-jump.

And that was pretty much the cadence of the days leading up to Christmas. Lots of family time, some of which Jas and Rosalie would expertly sidestep. Jas and I stuck together a fair bit, mostly because I had no idea what to say to an eighty-something woman who didn't always remember she'd invited me into her house, but sometimes Rosalie would come in with a subdued or tortured look, and I could practically see him weighing the options. It was like there was a scale in his head, with a tiny me on one side, arms open, and a tiny Rosalie on the other, hands on her hips.

I knew that scale must have existed before, since we shared a house and all, but Christmas-Rose seemed to carry more weight because sometimes he chose her. When I used my alone time to think about it, I realized that these New York trips were pretty much that last remaining facet of Jas's life that I hadn't seen before, and that obviously he had to do something when he wasn't with me. I wondered, then, if that included even when we were in Forks. If, when I had been at my dad's house, Jas had defaulted to her. It seemed unlikely, because I could see that she was a monstrous bitch. But then again, she hated me, so maybe her weekly ration of death glares were all wasted in my direction.

Still, I didn't get it. It had been so easy to disregard Rosalie in the past. I just looked the other way and went on with my life, and Jas always had to. At least, from what I saw…

It was impossible to hide away with my own thoughts for too long, though, and by the afternoon of Christmas Dinner (which was really Christmas Eve dinner), everyone was given a task. Rosalie and Esme had to drop off some cookies at the town hall before picking up a few forgotten ingredients for dinner, and Carlisle and Esme's dad were tasked with finding some fresh Christmas lights because ours had shorted out and apparently that just wouldn't do.

That just left me and Jas, and we promptly volunteered to stay behind and tidy up. Together. Alone.

Carlisle reminded us on his way out that there was a lot to do and we shouldn't dawdle, but I figured any alone time with Jas was better than nothing. When he started to polish the special-occasion silverware, though, I placed the cups I was holding back into the dishwasher and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you do that every year?"

He rolled his eyes. "Someone does. We rarely use them so they get tarnished every time we put them away."

Well. Christmas was a fancy affair for the Platt/Cullen household.

His fingers kept working a blue rag over the metal, but his smile grew devious. "Plus, I think they're trying to keep us extra-busy."

I threw my hands up. "Right? I have never baked so many cookies in my life."

He laughed, shaking the hair from his eyes, and carefully laid one shiny knife in line with the dull ones. Then, with a soft 'hmm', he dropped the rag too and studied me from his spot at the kitchen table.

He didn't say anything at first, but I heard the soft scrape of a chair and watched him calmly walk over to me. I settled against the ridge of the counter and opened my arms so he could lean himself against me. His arms went around my shoulders to hug me, to just hold me like we hadn't really been able to do since the city, and I let myself take one deep, slow breath.

He muttered into my ear, "Cleaning is stupid," and I laughed against his collarbone.

"Jasper Cullen, the poet."

I made sure he saw me smirking, and he opened his mouth for what may or may not have been a clever retort, but instead shot me a quirky grin.

Then he was kissing me, which was even better than talking or hugging, and I curled my fingers into his shirt so that he wouldn't stop. I pulled back once, double checking, "You'll hear the door, right?" and he mumbled something about chimes and promised he would.

So we made out for a while – nothing more, because time was short – but it had been too long since Jas and I had just done that for the fun of it. His hands went into my hair, making a mess of what I had tried to comb into place, but I was happy just focusing on the plump feel of his lips moistening against mine. I decided I hadn't given them enough appreciation lately, and lavished them accordingly.

Eventually my hands fell to the small of his back while I left a few, last pecks on his swollen mouth.

"Bet you've never done that in your grandparent's house before."

His laugh ended on a sigh. "Rose would be jealous. She's been begging to bring Emmett with us since they got together."

I didn't find it quite so funny, but I smiled for him. "She might voice a few other opinions first."

"Yeah," he said, dropping his eyes to the sink beside me, and I felt his body loosen and deflate.

"Hey," I said, jostling him a bit to bring him back to the moment. "I didn't mean—"

"No, I know," he said, but he still unclasped his hands from behind me and leaned against his own section of the counter. "I just wish it were easier. I wish she could know, and be okay with it."

"But—" I started, and then bit it back. I tried to choose my words very carefully. "It kind of seems sudden. You didn't… didn't seem to care what she thought, before."

He nodded somewhat sadly, and looked down to watch his hands fiddle with a belt loop. "I know. You're right."

"But, now…" I hedged.

With a silent sigh and a swipe of his hair out of his eyes, he looked up and said, "Alice."

I was instantly wary, feeling almost protective of her name being dragged into a conversation about Rosalie. "What about her?"

He was clearly sorry even as he said it. "I watched your sister… become like mine." Of course, I straightened up immediately, ready to defend Alice from anything he might say, but he added, "Not for that long. But something went wrong, and suddenly she was always upset and yelling for no reason, even though she used to be fine. And it seemed a lot like Rose."

I completely failed to think of a time when Rosalie wasn't a bitch, but decided to keep that to myself. Instead I said, "But Alice is alright again." I mean, pretty much.

Once again, he nodded, and then shuffled along the counter to close the gap between us. Very quietly he said, "Because you never gave up. When Rosalie started getting really mean I just…" He held up a hand like he was trying to show me something, but then sliced it sharply through the air. "I just brushed it off."

"But Jas, it's not your job to—"

"I know. And I know it's totally different for you and Alice. But I realized that maybe it's not just her. I know we can get along, and have fun even. Being here just reminds me that sometimes she can be a real sister. And if we can do it sometimes, maybe if I put in some effort…"

From where I was standing, she didn't deserve his effort, but he trailed off into a fog of his own thoughts and I didn't want him to have to worry about that now.

"Come on," I said, squeezing his hand. "Let's not spend our time alone worrying."

It took him a moment of staring at the floor while I watched him, unmoving, but then his back straightened and I felt his hand sliding across my jeans and into my back pocket. Then, without warning, he squeezed.

I gave him a 'where exactly do you think you're going with this' look from the corner of my eye, and was gratified to see the corner of his lip twitch up.

"What?" he asked innocently, turning a fully placated smile to me. "I'm in my happy place."

I knew he was faking, brushing off his concerns maybe just because I'd asked him to, but I kept him distracted with light, pointless chatter until Esme came home and reminded us that there was work to be done.

Dinner turned out to be a family-wide effort. Plus me. Esme and her mom spent most of their effort preparing some dessert that seemed to use more pots and pans than the rest of dinner put together, while Rosalie tended to the lamb and mashed potatoes and Jas and I stuck to our original tasks. The carving of the lamb was left to Carlisle, and Esme's dad went to retrieve the fresh bread someone had baked. In the middle of it all, watching everyone shuffle pans and bump into each other and laugh about flour in their hair, I resolved to call Alice instead of just texting her.

Dinner came first though, and then it was off to church. And not just any church, Midnight Mass. At eight PM. Because as Nan said, "It was God who made me so tired, so He'll understand why I can't stay up so late."

Mass was long and mostly somber, and I wasn't allowed to have a Jesus cracker, so I found myself zoning out with the question of whether or not Jas and I were the only ones in the room who liked kissing boys. I decided we probably were, because most of the small, honest crowd around us was nodding along with the priest's every proclamation, and they seemed like the type who never really questioned their choice because god told them it wasn't a choice at all.

Too bad I'd given up my allegiance to god when he let everything I believed in drift and fade away, like so much smoke of a forgotten campfire.

We left as soon as Mass was over because Jas's grandparents couldn't wait to get to sleep, and Carlisle and Esme turned in soon after. They each came into the living room to say goodnight, and reminded me to get some sleep before an early Christmas.

I didn't want to, though. I still hated going to bed without crawling in with Jas first, and it was Christmas Eve. I knew I had become used to the freedom we had at the Cullen's house, spoiled by it even, but four without curling up on a couch or in bed together was just too long. I felt the pull, imagined swinging my legs off the couch and saw myself moving to his door, just for a few more minutes of closeness. But, Rosalie was in there. And not only that but I could hear them talking, maybe even laughing, so I turned the TV on low and watched A Charlie Brown Christmas instead.

I avoided eye contact when Rosalie stalked through the living room, but as soon as I saw her reach for the bathroom door with her pajamas in her hand I knew those were the minutes I'd been waiting for. I crossed the room even as I clicked off the TV, tossing the remote back to the sofa with a soft thud.

I gave a soft knock before pushing the bedroom door open, but I still caught Jas in the middle of undressing. He quickly raised his jeans back over his askew boxers, but when he saw me his face relaxed and he straightened up, letting the jeans drop back down.

"I thought you were Rose," he said with a little smile that told me he was glad I wasn't.

"She's in the bathroom."

He nodded and smiled wide, before stepping directly out of his jeans and straight towards me. "She always takes a long time." The loose boxers swayed around his lean thighs when he walked, and I realized I'd missed those. His thighs.

"Come here," he whispered, and backed me up until I was just in front of the closed door. It was our tried and true safety net because, just like the night we'd talked in the theater bathroom, anyone opening the door would knock into us before seeing anything. And not only was it safe, but it gave me hope that our thoughts had gone to similar places.

Part of me felt dumb for missing him from less than ten feet away, but the rest of me reached for him, pulling myself against his chest and his lips without hesitation. What was worse was that he was in boxers, and both our bodies remembered exactly how long it'd been since they'd been pressed up together, naked. Even as he kissed me harder, though, we heard the rushing of water through the old pipes in the walls stop, and knew that Rosalie would be back soon.

Jas just wrapped his palms behind my neck and pulled me tighter.

"Careful," I mumbled against his lips. "Don't want to get caught." But then, when he didn't stop, it occurred to me, "Unless you do." He was the one who wanted tell her.

That got his attention, and fast. He dropped his hands and yanked his head back, suddenly looking very serious and wary. "No." He shook his head so hard his eyes got lost behind his hair. "No way. Edward, the only way this is going to work is if I tell her. If she finds out by accident, it'll be this huge secret I kept from her. Because it is."

"A secret?"

He held my gaze through his hair, as if trying to imprint his seriousness onto my retinas. "Huge. And you know Rose. She holds grudges."

I blinked at him, unsure whether or not that was a joke. Understatement of the year, more like. Finally, I nodded with an obvious, "Yeah."

He sighed and moved to pick up his pajama pants – the ones he only wore when he wasn't in his own room, or with me. As he pulled them up, he spoke in one of those whispers so quiet I could only understand him because I could see his lips moving too.

"Edward, I really do want her to know. I want her to know and be okay with it." To make up for his near-silence, though, he punctuated his points with rolling hand gestures. "But if she finds out by accident she'll think I was excluding her on purpose, and then I don't think she'll ever accept it. I have to tell her the right way."

In that moment of silence I wanted to say so many things. That he didn't need Rosalie's acceptance, and that he might never get it anyway because she hated me. I wanted to ask him to wait, wait for the right time, but I couldn't possibly imagine when that would be. I tried to think of how I'd told Alice, but I hadn't really, and that hadn't gone over very well anyway. And that reminded me that I still hadn't called her.

I took so long trying to come up with the right response that Jas moved to the twin bed that was his for the week and sat heavily onto the edge of it. Then he patted the spot beside him silently, and watched me settle in next to him. I sat close, with my thigh pressed up against his orange-slice pajamas, because I didn't want him to feel like there was any bad blood, and because I still missed being close to him.

I traced the outline of a seed in one of the orange slices on his knee and collected my thoughts.

"How come she has to know about me too? Why can't you just tell her about you?"

He didn't answer immediately so I looked up, and found him staring at me with that tender, crooked smile that seemed so out of place until he rubbed his palm across my cheek with a firm, warm pressure. I leaned into it, enjoying the way his fingertips brushed at my neck. "Because it's obvious."

For a moment that answer startled me, but I slumped as he dropped his hand. Unfortunately, that was probably a very valid point.

"I don't want to have to lie anymore. And as soon as she knows about me, she'll figure the rest out. It's the same with school, I can't come out without outing you too."

"So if it weren't for me, you'd tell everyone there too?"

I never got the answer to that, though, because I heard the door whoosh open behind me, and Jas's stare was suddenly poised over my shoulder.

I twisted around, watching her warily, but Rosalie had her clothes clutched to her chest and looked startled and annoyed to see me, as usual. All things considered, 'as usual' was probably a good thing.

Rosalie put her free hand on her hip and said, "Nuh-uh. None of this cub-scout meeting shit in my room."

"Rose," Jas said carefully, "we were just talking."

She rolled her eyes and jutted her hip out farther with the same over-dramatic flair I'd come to expect from her. "That's why you look like I just caught you digging up Mom's garden."

"Rose," Jas huffed with some exasperation I wasn't expecting. "I was ten."

"I don't care. I'm sick of walking in on private pow-wows, so go swap your secrets somewhere else."

I suddenly remembered Rosalie stomping through the living room, insisting to Esme that she didn't care about her secrets either. And with a lump in my stomach that seemed to suck the heat from my toes, I realized Esme was probably hiding the same secret. Our secret. So Rosalie knew that everyone was keeping something from her… which was exactly what Jas was afraid of.

He seemed to have thought exactly the same thing, because he'd turned nearly his whole body towards me and caught me in a pleading look. It wasn't puppy dog eyes, because Jas would never pull something so intentionally manipulative, but I knew he wanted to tell her so bad. His face was drawn and worried, almost begging, but also hopeful. Like if I just said yes, everything would be okay.

And I felt it. I felt Rosalie's stare and the intensity of his hope and the pressure of holding his happiness on my breath. Not that I thought any happiness could come from a conversation with Rosalie, but it felt so shitty and selfish to hold Jas back from a chance he believed in.

I wished it wasn't here, wasn't now, because I was afraid of how Rosalie would react and there was nowhere for me to get away. But Jas thought this would help, and he was always so much better at reading people than I was…

Really, what it came down to, was that the only way to ease the situation was to say yes. Rosalie had laid her cards out in the open, and if I asked Jas to walk out when he was so blatantly guarding a secret, she'd only get worse.

Reluctantly, almost imperceptibly, I nodded, and all I could see in Jas's face was gratitude.

Somehow, though, that seemed like the wrong answer, because Rosalie suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

"Wait, is it him?" she demanded, looking back and forth between us with a scandalized expression. "Do you need his permission to talk?"

Neither of us said anything, and she took that as a yes. Her fury was all too easy to spot, so I was surprised when her anger came out mixed with pleading.

"Don't let him do that to you, Jasper. It's not right."

Still, he said nothing, and that was too much for her. Clothes still balled angrily in her hands, she insisted in a shrill voice, "Stop looking at him and talk to me."

Jas turned his face even farther away, trying to sheilf himself from her loud demands. But even as he did, I knew I deal on her level, no problem.

So I did. Just as loudly. "You don't have to yell all the time."

She spun towards me, still furious. "Oh really? Maybe that's the only way anyone can hear me through your sob story."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bi—"

"Stop."

His voice was so quiet, so restrained amidst our tactless volleys, but like a feather launched into a gun fight we both stopped to notice it.

He stood, purposefully. He may not have been able to stand a shouting match, but he was still Jas and he knew what he wanted.

"You said you'd try," he said to Rosalie, in that same soft tone, but before I could wonder what that meant he'd turned to me. "And you're not helping."

"What's going on," a deep voice demanded from the doorway, and we all looked to see a sleep-ruffled Carlisle.

Esme quickly slipped in from behind his arm, chastising us all. "You're going to wake Nan and Grandpop."

I stared at my bare feet, digging little valleys into the carpet, but again no one said a thing.

The tension was thick, like everyone was holding the same collective breath, and both Jas's parents stared at us in wonder.

"Who wants to tell us what's going on?"

Jas cleared his throat. "I just need to talk to Rose."

He blinked at his parents and they blinked back, but no one was any more forthcoming and Carlisle soon accepted his defeat.

"Inside voices," he told him, ticking a stern finger through the air.

Jas nodded while Rosalie just stared on, wide-eyed.

As Carlisle and Esme stepped back into the hall, Jasper's eyes flickered up to me.

"Just me."

I don't know why, but it felt like cold water down my back. He was about to out me too, and for some reason I'd always imagined myself there, just to stay on top of the situation. I wanted to stay, at least to keep Rosalie in check, but Jas stood his ground. I didn't know what else I could even say in front of her, so I just gave him a short nod and clicked the door shut behind me.

It wasn't over, though, because both Esme and Carlisle were still in the hall, and Esme put a small hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, Edward," she said, and led me to the couch.

They sat on either side of me, concern clearly written across their tired faces, and Esme arranged an extra knit blanket around her nightgown.

"What's going on?" she asked gently.

I stared forlornly at the floor, wanting to just sleep and get the day over with, but eventually I found the words.

"Jasper decided to come out."

"Here?" Carlisle asked, sounding mildly alarmed, but Esme slumped back against the cushions beside me.

"Oh, thank god," she whispered into the room, pressing one flat hand against her chest.

I watched her breathe out relieved sighs, bewildered, and she caught me staring.

"Oh, Edward," she said, beaming over at me as she rested a hand against my back. "This is a good thing, I promise. This will make everything easier."

I wanted to believe her, I really did, but until I saw it with my own two eyes I just couldn't let go of that tension in my chest.

"I'd like to sleep now," I said thickly, and Esme ruffled my hair before they slipped quietly past Jasper's room.

Of course, I didn't sleep. I waited for something to happen, for Jas to come out or Rosalie to make a scene, but nothing did. All I heard was one sharp, "what!" and then nothing.

When Esme's dad came out to pee and saw me still up I decided to turn off the lights. I crawled into bed, trying to imagine what they were saying. The quiet was probably a good sign. But still, I couldn't imagine Rosalie ever accepting us. Maybe him, but never me, or us together. I curled up tighter under the covers thinking that for a 'best case scenario', that was pretty pathetic.

I sat up at the first swing of a door, but it was just Esme's mom, so I forced my eyes to shut and tried to think sleepy thoughts. It didn't help. With the next crack of a light from the hallway I was instantly alert. Footsteps creaked across the living room, sounding heavy enough to be Jasper.

Then I heard someone put the toilet seat up, and I knew it was him. I waited, perfectly still, but it'd be lying to say I wasn't waiting for him to come to me.

For some reason, it seemed like he should make the first move.

I felt my heart thumping, driving any fatigue from my thoughts, when the footsteps left the bathroom and grew steadily louder. Only when I heard him feeling his way around the coffee table did I sit up.

"You're up?" he whispered.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"Can I crawl in?"

I was shocked that he wanted to risk it, even with Rosalie now knowing, but I wasn't about to deny him. Despite the pervasive darkness, Jas and I felt for each other like we had so many times before and he slipped in under the blanket with me. It was a narrow couch, impossible to both fit on unless we laid perfectly straight, but I wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him balanced on the cushions.

He pressed his forehead against my collarbone and I felt his heavy breathing seeping under my shirt.

"What did she say?"

More heavy breaths. "I've been a shitty brother."

That bitch. "She said that?"

"No," he said quietly. "No, she said I ignored her. Not just now, but before."

"Well, maybe if she wasn't such a—"

"Edward." His fingertips dug into my back. "Don't."

"Sorry," I said meekly. "What did she say about, you know?"

He pulled himself closer. "She says it's weird. She said I don't seem gay, and am I sure I'm gay." I rolled my eyes, glad he couldn't see my face. "But when I said I definitely was she seemed okay with it."

That should have been good news, exactly what Jas wanted, but there was still an edge of defeat to his voice. "But?"

"But she's angry. At you, mostly, even though I told her I let it happen. She thinks…she feels like you stole me."

"I didn't—"

"I know," he said, his voice soothing and his thumbs starting to pick up little patterns on my back. "I'll work on her. At least I've made a start."

Yeah. A start. "You don't think she'll tell anyone, do you?"

"No," he said, with striking confidence. "Definitely not. She was concerned about me coming out too."

Huh. Not that that meant we had anything in common, of course, but that was still good to know.

"I should go back," he added, still tightly pressed against me. "I just told her I had to pee." But he made no move to get up, and we laid in my tiny cocoon of a bed and buried ourselves in the familiar comfort of each other's arms.

After a few minutes, he asked, "What time is it?"

"One thirty, maybe."

"Oh." He shifted, his lips trailing wet patterns across my chin as he searched for my lips. It was a real kiss, deep and passionate, and offset by the gentle sweeping of his fingers behind my ear. It reminded me how much he wanted me, and loved me, and it was the first time all night I felt some modicum of peace because it was a kiss that reminded me he wasn't going anywhere.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

"Merry Christmas, Jas."

* * *

**Merry Christmas, guys :P**

**First, the announcements: Awards season is back, and my one-shot Power has been nominated for Best Slash and Best Smut in the Vampie Awards. There are lots of fun fics up for awards, and you can vote until ****July 31st. ****www(dot)twificpics(dot)com/vampawards/?page_id=198 Also, our beloved Slash Awards are taking nominations, and as of August 1st it's time to pimp your favorites. theslashawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com**

**Secondly, I want to apologize for how long it's been since my last update. I am 100% committed to this story and never mean to let it go so long, but lately RL hasn't been taking my scheduling requests, and sadly there are some things that just cannot be put off for fanfic. **

**The biggest thank you to my beta, Elvelethril, who knows exactly what I'm trying to say. And lastly, to a certain peanut-butter-and-chocolate fan, if you're reading this, welcome back :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**'Bout that time, eh chaps? :P ****That's right, the Slash Awards are back on. There are so many wonderful stories nominated, so head on over to vote for your favorites and pick up a few new stories as well. I'm very excited to announce that Your Biggest Fan is up for several awards, including Best I Love You, Best First Kiss, and Best All Human. Two of my other stories, Copperhead and Power, are up for Best One-Shot, and Power is up for Best Vamp too. Voting goes on 'til midnight on Sept. 24th, so wield your power of the pen (ok, mouse) and make your voice heard at ****theslashawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com**

******Also, a very specific Thank You goes to OnTheTurningAway for her insight into New York and what Edward might like to see. Seriously, a lifesaver. **

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play**.

* * *

_"Merry Christmas, Edward."_

_"Merry Christmas, Jas."_

* * *

Christmas morning came especially early, with the sounds of birds singing, pipes whooshing, and someone talking animatedly about… cell phone plans?

Oh hell no.

I burrowed under my blanket, trying to mold a cocoon of warmth and quiet around my head, but even that wasn't much help when the edge of the couch suddenly dipped. A cold hand snuck under the covers and I cringed away from it, even though moments later I was curling myself back to feel the touch again. I knew that hand.

"It's early," I whined, still hiding my eyes from the light.

"It's Christmas," he countered. "Up and at 'em, Private."

"Bite me. Sir."

He laughed, but eventually convinced me it really was time to get up. After I made it to a sitting position, he settled himself next to me and tucked his feet under my blanket.

"So how did, you know, the rest of your talk go?"

He shrugged, which I refused to take for an answer, so I nudged him in the ribs.

"It went fine," he said quietly. "She never did flip out, if that's what you mean. I heard her crying after she thought I was asleep though."

"Oh," was pretty much the only thing I could say, and I said it to my knees. It's not like it was my goal to make Rosalie cry. I just wanted to be… left alone. With Jasper.

Jas didn't have much else to say on the topic either, so we let it slide. Esme came in soon after that to rouse us, insisting that we all eat breakfast to offset all that sugar we were about to scarf down.

Before long we were all huddled around the Christmas tree with Nat King Cole on in the background. Carlisle had pulled over Grandpop's favorite chair, and everyone settled into a routine that was probably even older than Jas was, just with the roles shuffled a bit. Esme doled out all the brightly wrapped packages while Nan collected all the bows and ribbons on her lap to use again. Jas pulled the excess wrapping and boxes off to the side, and Carlisle was in charge of anything 'hard to open'.

Most of the gifts went over well. Esme was ushering her parents into the twentieth century with a DVD player that Carlisle promised to set up and explain, right after he finished ogling his new leather briefcase, and Esme herself loved the hand-painted garden markers we'd picked out for her.

Jas and I had agreed to exchange our gifts in private, which was good because I didn't exactly have his yet. In fact… I didn't even know what it was. Luckily for me, though, Jas had said he'd rather wait 'til we got back home, just for privacy's sake.

It's not that I hadn't put time and effort into finding him a present, it's just that nothing was good enough. Every time I thought I'd found the right gift, I'd agonize over how it would be received and had always ended up convincing myself it wouldn't be meaningful enough. I knew the type of thing I wanted, something personal and meaningful, and I just had to hope for better luck finding it in New York City. Thank god we were going back.

When there were only a few small boxes left under the tree, Rosalie finally got the new present she'd been waiting for. It seemed Esme had specifically wrapped it in a larger box so that she wouldn't be able to pick out the tellingly-Apple packaging, but eventually she couldn't put it off any longer. Rosalie squealed when she realized it was, in fact, the new iPhone 4 and threw her arms around Esme. Carlisle launched into the new changes to their phone plan, including all the texting Rosalie could handle, and even Grandpop leaned over the edge of his chair to see the new device.

While they were all distracted, Nan gave Jasper a less-than-subtle wink and pulled out a bright green checkered box for him. While he tore into that, she reached under the furthest branches and pulled out a very slim present in plain, dark blue wrapping. After checking the tag, she handed it to me.

From 'All of us', the tag said.

Holding it in both hands, I immediately knew it was a picture. The thin, raised frame was too obvious. I had a suspicion it was of Jas and me, maybe the one Esme took right before our first date, and I was quietly relieved not to have all eyes on me as I opened it.

I hooked my fingers under the tape in the back and had just ripped the paper away from the top half when I hear Esme saying, "Oh sweetie, wait—"

It was not the photo I'd been expecting. None of Jasper's blond curls, or the white and blue pattern of the Cullen's kitchen – the colors were all wrong.

Instead, I saw bronze. Bronze and green and the shoulders of a periwinkle blue dress I knew all too well. Mom.

I saw Jasper's arms reach for me and heard the rustling of Esme getting up as well, but I shook my head.

Mom. Instead of the eight by ten we'd had on the hearth it was just a five by seven, but it was the same picture that had always kept Mom's presence alive in the house. And now, surrounded by the same carols and the scents of pine and paper brought back memories of more Christmases than I was prepared for. I was holding her immortalized image in my hands, here, out of place, and I hadn't known, wasn't expecting…My brain stalled out like a skipping record and it was just too much. Too much.

I needed to see her alone.

I pulled the rest of the paper off and dropped it blindly at my side. The only voice I could really focus on was Jasper's, saying my name, but I used his shoulder to push myself up and mumbled, "I just need… a minute."

Behind me I heard Esme saying in an overly patient voice, "Mom, I told you, remember?" but I didn't pay much attention. I headed straight for Jasper's room, since my makeshift bedroom was now Christmas central, and curled up on the bed he'd been using.

Propping my mom's picture against my knees I studied it, really studied it, like I hadn't done since I'd last been in my dad's house. I couldn't believe it had been so long, and yet, it had only been a couple months. Not just any couple months though, probably the most important months of my life since a picture of my mom had become a substitute for the real thing. So much had happened, and I had to fill her in on all of it.

Talking to her, even silently, gave me the same sense of catharsis that I assumed other people used diaries for. The words were said, released into the universe, and memorialized forever. Once I'd shared the important memories, I felt like it wasn't my burden alone to remember every detail anymore, and it was easier to immerse myself in making new memories.

I told Mom about Alice, how we'd nearly fallen apart, and how I wished I had Jasper's skill at reading other people. I related the whole drawn out story, and how Seth was a large part of her happiness these days, and promised that she was well taken care of. And that I was too, for that matter. I told her about Jasper, how he loved me enough to break past my bullshit, and I even smiled to myself when I admitted that my own attempt to romance him had been less than graceful.

I remembered how boldly Jasper had told his parents, that morning at the kitchen table, that he was gay, and how gung-ho he was to declare it to the rest of the world too. I confided that the thought of it horrified me, that he wanted to take our happy secret and release it from the safety of our home for the world to twist and alter and criticize as they wished. I didn't understand how he could put that information in the hands of strangers, relinquishing all control of it. I told her how hesitant I was to give up that control, too.

I was startled by a hesitant knock at the bedroom door, and when I said to come in I was surprised to see Esme's face.

"Can I take a minute?" she asked softly, peaking only her head around the door.

"Sure. I was just about finished anyway."

I swung my legs over the side so she could sit next to me, but I wasn't expecting the bear hug she pulled me into. For some reason, I reached behind me and flipped my mom's picture face-down before I turned to hug her back. Just ending one conversation before moving onto the next.

Esme pulled back and brushed what was probably still bed-head away from my face before asking, "How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm fine," I said, picking at the comforter between us. "Actually, I'm good. I—I really missed her. I was just sort of caught off guard, you know?"

When I finally looked her in the eye – for the first time all morning, really – she had her head tilted to the side with a very soft expression. "Of course. I'm so sorry Mom just handed it to you like that. I told her more than once to leave it hidden in the back but," she pressed an open palm to her chest and looked toward the closed door, "she just isn't as with it as she used to be."

"I'm sorry."

She turned back to me and when she patted my hand she had her mom face back on. "Oh, don't be. It's nobody's fault. It just means I haven't been able to spend as much time with you kids as I'd like. Maybe we can do something in the City tomorrow? Besides penguins, I mean."

I laughed, despite myself. "What is it with those penguins?"

She laughed lightly, and shrugged. "I don't know. We can think of something else instead. But in the meantime, what do you want to do today?"

I glanced back to the photo frame. "I, um, I think I need to call my sister."

"That's probably a good idea. Charlie and Bella gave her the same picture, by the way."

"Really? So, who…?" She smiled knowingly and I let the question drop.

"It was a team effort, but Charlie's the one with keys to your father's place, and Jasper had the Kinkos know-how."

Charlie, huh? It was weird to think of him going into that empty house and taking my mom's picture, like it wasn't supposed to be moved or something, but at the same time I was so glad he did. It really meant a lot that they all pitched in for me and Alice.

I pulled the frame back into my lap, face up. "I don't really know to say it but, thank you, Esme. All of you. I mean, really."

"We were happy to do it, Edward." She scooted close enough to wrap an arm around my shoulder, and stared at the picture with me. "She really was beautiful."

"Yeah. Dad was always saying so." Back when we thought we were the happy nuclear family. "He said he was lucky to have such a beautiful woman, who gave him such beautiful children."

As soon as I said it, I realized it sounded like I was bragging, and tried to take it back. Besides, he definitely hadn't said anything like that in years. But Esme cut me off with a squeeze around my shoulders and just said, "I'll tell Jasper you're calling Alice. Everyone's still in the living room, but I'm sure you can use his phone."

I figured I could too, and fished it from the nightstand once Esme had closed the door again.

"Jasper?"

"No, it's me."

Alice took a deep heavy breath that I could hear rustling in the phone. "Edward, I miss our old Christmases."

"I know," I said quietly. "I got the picture too."

"She's so pretty, isn't she?"

"That's what Esme said."

"I'm forgetting little details," she sighed, "like the shape of her eyes, and those little lines when she smiled."

"Ali, you won't forget her. You look just like her."

When she answered her voice was small and far away. "Not anymore."

No, not anymore.

"It's weird to have the picture, you know, Edward? Because whenever I see it, it reminds me of her, and I like that I can remember her. But then when I remember her I feel guilty because it means I haven't been remembering her. Does that make any sense?"

I settled back onto Jasper's pillow and nodded, and then added, "Of course," so she could hear me. "Sometimes I used to go home from Jasper's, just because it had been too long since I'd seen it. I wished I could take it with me. But I like the idea of having my own copy, separate from the old one, 'cause I feel like it would be wrong not to have her picture at the old house, you know?"

"Yeah. I just couldn't get myself to go back there."

"Me neither."

There was a long moment of silence where we both let our thoughts run their course, but I knew that, at least where Mom was concerned, they were aligned. We missed the same person for the same reasons, and that was a comfort.

Finally, Alice said, "It's Christmas, we should talk about happy things," and I could practically see her force herself to perk up on the other end of the line.

So we talked about our holidays so far, and I told her about New York City while she complained that Charlie ate fish even on Christmas. We were happily comparing our Christmas loot before I heard a knock at the door, and I told her I had to go.

"Okay, but send me more pictures of the city, okay?"

"You got it. Bye Ali."

As I hung up, I called out for whoever it was to come in, and I was relieved to see Jasper this time. Without hesitating, I pushed myself away from the bed and across the room.

"Thank you," I said, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and squeezing myself against him. "Thank you so much for making sure I never have to go back there."

His arms squeezed back just as tightly and he whispered, "Of course, Edward."

I pushed enough distance between us to kiss him properly, but when I did I noticed Rosalie standing in the open doorway. She didn't look angry, or contemptuous. She was just openly watching. Jas noticed how I froze and looked over his shoulder.

"We need a minute," was all he said, and to my surprise she listened. Her nostrils flared and she rolled her eyes, but she still wordlessly listened. We both stared at the blocked doorway for a moment.

"See," Jas finally said, "that was easy enough."

It… really was.

I put a hand on his cheek to turn him back to me and pressed my lips, so gently, against his. Not with lust, or impatience, just my sincere gratitude.

"Edward, it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"It's okay. Really. It sounds dumb, but it was kind of like a surprise visit from my mom. I was just caught so off guard, and I didn't want to spaz in front of your grandparents—"

"Yeah," he smirked just the tiniest bit, "that's why we were saving it for later."

"Hey," I said, giving his shoulder a friendly shove. "I totally kept my shit together."

His face went serious again. "You were great. Do you need more time, or …?"

I glanced back to the photo, lying face up on the bed where I'd left it. "No, I'm good."

He studied my eyes intensely while his fingers played with the hair that I usually pushed behind my ears. It let me study him right back, and I watched his crystal blue eyes dart around. I was so close I could see the patterns in his irises, and the darker, uneven ring around his pupil that made them seem even deeper. If I looked deep enough, I thought maybe I could see the ticker tape of his thoughts streaming by.

"Is there something else you wanna do, then?"

I put on a comically hopeful smile. "Lock the door and get naked for three hours?"

He chuckled and it broke the moment, but his fingers tightened in my hair even as he sighed wistfully.

"If you wanna get out, we could go running."

"Fine," I rolled my eyes. "If we have to stick to realistic ideas."

The truth was, though, that running sounded like a fantastic idea. It would let me work my limbs until they were as tired as my mind, and it had been almost a week since I'd been able to really stretch my muscles.

The air was brisk, which actually that it was fucking freezing but we were both pretending to be man enough to not mind. Mostly I was just disappointed that it was too cold to sneak behind a bush or into the old high school for a little bit of one-on-one time, but I still enjoyed running for the sake of running. I helped me leave the morning behind, like I could sweat out all the emotions and tension, and by the time we got back to his grandparents' block I felt lighter than I had all week.

Jasper, on the other hand, was a distance runner through and through and probably had another few miles before he'd reach his zen high. So instead, he elbowed me and waggled and eyebrow.

"Race ya."

Without waiting, he slapped his feet to the pavement and put nearly a house's distance between us. But even with his head start, there was no way I was going to let him win. If he thought I was going to let some marathoner beat me in a dead sprint, he was about to have his ego severely bruised.

I knew he could hear me gaining behind him, but he was already at his limit and last minute bursts of speed were what I'd trained for. I passed him just as we rounded up his grandparents' driveway and made sure he saw me sticking my tongue out, because we were nothing if not mature.

I guess he never intended for it to be a clean match, though, because letting me kick dust in his face, he snagged the back of my sweats to pull me back. And being elastic and all, that meant they stretched a whole foot behind me, letting all that cold air whoosh in around my poor freezing butt.

The choking sound that came from my throat made him laugh, and I wrenched myself around to grab his wrists, but even that didn't deter him. He kept yanking at his wrists, trying to free himself as we stumbled up the driveway, until I finally said, "You know, if you wanted to get in my pants we should have just stayed in your room."

Okay, it was cheesy, but I was expecting him to laugh anyway. What he did instead was stop entirely and give me the most devious smirk he could muster.

With one eyebrow raised he asked, "Who said I wanted to get in your pants?"

Surprised, I totally forgot to keep his wrists pinned together, and in one swift movement he grabbed the sides of my sweats and pantsed me. Right there. In the fucking driveway.

He was so dead.

I lunged, of course, but with my pants trapping my knees together I couldn't go far and only managed to pinch the back of his shirt as he made for the door, laughing his ass off. I kept a tight hold until I could hobble close enough to loop an arm around his waist and pin him to me. We were barely a foot from the front steps, and after that stunt there was no way I would let him win.

"You're gonna pay for that," I warned, trying my hardest to sound like I meant it, but laughing anyway.

But he didn't buy it, and left that cocky grin on his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Is that before or after you pull up your pants?"

Just to punctuate his point he ground his hips against my barely-covered crotch. I think I tried to press closer and pull away at the same time, so I just ended up doing a wobbly tai chi move. Jas, of course, laughed shamelessly.

So unbelievably dead. So dead he would come back as a vampire just so he had to admit how dead he was.

Right after I pulled up my pants.

He took that opportunity to break loose again, but instead of heading for the door he darted around the side of the house. I followed as soon as I was sure my drawstring couldn't be tied any tighter, and swiped some day-old snow off the hedges on my way. He saw straight through my innocent act, of course, so it took some good old-fashioned wrestling to get that snow down his shirt. But, by god, I got it down there. By the end, I had him pinned to the wet grass, completely unable to defend himself, and laughing so hard he had tears leaking down his to his temples.

It's not like we had a lot of snow left to work worth, but somehow the next hour turned into a bare-handed snow-slinging wrestling match that didn't end until I pressed my red, burning palms under Jas's shirt to warm them back up and he cried uncle.

At that point Esme came outside, bundled up like we probably should have been, but we had sweatshirts and ear warmers and that was good enough for us. She was smiling like she had just heard an inside joke, only I had a feeling it was the same joke that had put me and Jas in such a good mood too.

"Time to come in, boys. Jasper, I need you to help Dad grab some firewood from the shed."

Jasper waved me into the house before following, and when Nan saw us come in the back door, flushed, laughing, and soaking wet, she sighed.

"Guess we'll have to make some hot cocoa."

She said it like it was a bad thing, but as she shuffled off towards the kitchen she winked at us from behind Esme's back.

I showered alone, sadly, and kept my palms out of the water until the heat didn't make them sting so much. It wasn't until I was drying off that I remembered we had been racing, and that Jas had specifically let me in the house first. I wondered if he'd forgotten the race too.

After that it was back to family time, and I didn't get another moment with Jasper until most of the house was already in bed.

I had just finished brushing my teeth when he slipped into the bathroom. I couldn't tell if he'd meant to meet me there, but I certainly didn't mind. He stepped up behind me, holding eye contact in the mirror, and pressed himself against every inch of my backside. His belly button lined up with my spine, his knees bent into the angles mine had created and, of course, his trapped member fit nicely between the curves of my ass. He held my attention so fixedly that I didn't even move; I just stood waiting to see what he would do next.

"Edward," he whispered, and I could have sworn he made my name breathier just so the moist air would linger in my ear.

"Yes?" I asked dumbly.

"I haven't forgotten what you said in the city."

"What?"

He lifted a hand to my neck, so softly I could barely feel it, and dragged the back of one knuckle down the exposed skin.

His lips were so close to my ear that he barely had to speak up at all. "Yet."

It took me a moment, but I remembered 'yet'. I remembered being mortified by those girls but so damn enamored with that peanut butter chocolate cake that I just had to shake Jas up a little too. And I'd meant it, when I said we didn't really know how good sex could be. Yet. It had been worth the look on his face, but the truth was that that thought was both thrilling and anxiety-provoking all at the same time, and I'd already had enough excitement today.

"Can we talk about it later?" I asked, and it was obvious from the way his hand stopped and his forehead creased that he thought my 'later' was a 'never'. So I smiled, because that wasn't what I meant, and added, "I'm trying to cut our important bathroom conversations down to a minimum."

I could tell he was relieved when his finger started again. This time, the tip traced down the front of my neck and along the ridge of my shoulder until I shivered.

"Well, if you don't want to talk."

And then in one swift movement that managed to throw me off balance and make me horny as hell all at once, he flipped me around by my shoulder and sank to his knees. He unpopped the buttons on my jeans without preamble, making me shiver again with the way his fingernails raked down my legs, dragging my boxers with them. Damn, my boy was quick. It totally made up for the pantsing incident.

I was half-up and rising fast, and he wasted no time in taking all of me into his mouth. It was an entirely new sensation, feeling his tongue swipe across skin that was still joining the game and getting more sensitive by the second, and he was able to keep his nose in my pubes until I was nearly fully hard.

I barely had time to comprehend what we were doing – in is grandparents' bathroom, no less – before I was shooting hot streams onto the back of his throat. It was like how everyone made fun of teenage boys for not being able to hold it in, except even I had never blown my load so quickly. A week of celibacy and our afternoon in the snow had put me at his complete mercy, though, and I just gave into the sensations.

I joined him on the floor while I caught my breath, and then hooked my fingers in his pajama pants. Now that I'd had my release I wasn't as impatient, so I took my time peeling his pants down because I knew it made him hot to watch. He was staring at me over his sharp cheekbones, panting with his mouth open and gripping my arm tightly.

I teased him by swirling the tip of my tongue under the ridge of his dick, sucking in spots along it but never taking it into my mouth. I was merciless, both as payback and because I loved to feel him tremble under my touch, until he started doing that sexy mumbly dirty talk thing of his. I trailed a hand up his chest and stuck my fingers past his lips to suck on before plunging his dick into my mouth. It was a good thing, too, because the way he moaned was neither quiet nor discreet, but I muffled it well enough.

Jas came almost as fast as I had, thrusting his hips up against my face and pumping his cum onto my tongue.

Afterwards, I laid out beside him, resting my head on his flung-out arm, and turned to watch him catch his breath. He was gorgeous in his pleasure, with his curls falling away from his face and his eyes blinking slowly, revealing brief glimpses of the calm blue that had been so intense just moments before.

"I thought you said you weren't trying to get into my pants."

He laughed on a breath, but curled up to face me. "You're such a fucking nerd, you know that?"

Then he rolled his eyes and I rolled mine, and we took a moment to lay there in each other's nerdy, blissed-out arms.

The morning came too soon, as it always did, and brought another drive into the city. This time, the penguins really were going to happen, and Rosalie was all geared up for some brother-sister time.

Jas stopped me at the top of the stairs to the Metro and stood in front of me. His hair was flatter today, and his red and white striped hat pushed it into his eyes, but he just looked right through it at me.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

I shook my head, and he stepped a little closer.

"Edward," he said quietly, "I wouldn't have to choose between you two if you guys could just hang out together."

I glanced down the stairs at Rosalie, who was studiously picking her nails, and shook my head again. "I have to get Alice something anyway, and your mom said she knows where to look."

"Alright," he shrugged, "I'll see you soon."

That was all fine and well, but for some reason as he turned I felt… lacking. I wanted something more. Even as I started to speak I knew I was being ridiculous and insecure, especially after all the fun we'd had by ourselves the day before, but my mouth continued before my brain gave the cease and desist order.

"As long as you choose me too. Sometimes." Most times.

He stepped back to me, doing his best not to smirk, and his levity alone soothed some of my worries.

He edged close enough that he could press his lips to my ear and whispered, "I choose you always, Edward. Even on the floor of my Nan's bathroom."

I flushed a little at the thought and tried to bite back the smile, convinced that his family would know what we were talking about if they looked, but it was a lost cause. The warmth flooded my cheeks as I nodded and grinned sheepishly, and I felt better.

He left a wet, lingering kiss on the very corner of my mouth before backing away. "See you real soon."

I headed in the other direction with Esme and Carlisle, who had been politely immersed in their own conversation that whole time. We all talked briefly about what we needed to get and wanted to see before Esme announced that we were heading to Chelsea.

Just like on our first trip to the city, I spent the first twenty minutes staring at the neighborhood around me. There were tiny cubbyhole galleries everywhere, and a zillion people out on the street. And everyone was gay.

Okay, no, of course not. That was a gross overstatement. It's just that, compared to Forks, it may as well have been everybody. There were several gay couples walking into storefronts holding hands, all unabashed and out in the open, and even one kissing. Like it was no big deal. Like we had stepped into another world.

When I finally turned my attention to the rest of the neighborhood, I noticed how artsy it was. But not like 'ohmygod I can't believe you don't know who Obscure McForeign is' artsy. More like, 'I know this great painter I'd love to share with you' artsy. It was fashionable without being designer and impressive without being elitist. And it was the perfect place to find Ali a present.

She wanted something unique, hand-made, and that could only be found in New York. It had seemed like a tall order at first, but now that we were here I was pretty sure that'd be all I could find. With Esme's help, I found a boutique with colorful dresses and one-of-a-kind jewelry. The owner told me all the jewelry was handmade, which I believed because there was someone actually twisting little beads onto wires in the back, and I told her that was great. Then she said all her artists were New York born and raised, and I said that was even better. And then she told me the earrings I had picked out were forty bucks, and I was done being enthusiastic.

I still bought them though, because they were nothing if not unique. They were green feathers on a silver hook, but the edges were also tinted with silver and the bottom tapered into a pointed, metallic tip. I had never seen anything like them, which I considered a good thing, and they got Esme's vote of approval as Alice-worthy.

Next we wandered around some of the more surrealist galleries, looking at pieces every which way and comparing the shapes we saw. It was like picking goldfish and happy faces out of floating clouds. I knew we sounded like hopeless amateurs to the more seasoned crowd around us, but no one gave us any grief for it. Eventually we found ourselves in front of a sort of catch-all knick knack shop, and after extracting a 'no pottery' promise from Esme, Carlisle opened the door for us all to go in.

It was definitely one of those 'one man's junk is another man's treasure' types of places, except I was pretty sure most of it was junk to me too. Carlisle draped his arm casually around Esme's shoulders, and she flipped over price tags while they strolled away down the narrow clutter-made aisles.

With the success of Alice's gift in mind, I thought this might be a great place to find Jasper's gift too. I wanted to find something that triggered memories of just him and me, and a lot of the old post cards and foreign coins just didn't fit the bill. In the back, though, were a lot of old clothes – some actually vintage, some just time-period costumes, but they gave me an idea.

I approached the counter and explained what I wanted to a middle-aged man with suspenders and a genuine New York accent. First he said those were collector's items, going for several thousand a piece and not something a small-time hobbyist like him would have, but when I told him a recreation would do he seemed excited to have what I wanted.

He led me over to a glass case with a whole range of items to choose from. Initially, there was some confusion between the specifics I wanted and what was actually realistic, but with his expertise and my guidelines I finally found Jasper a worthwhile Christmas present. I think my excitement confused the shopkeeper but he gladly took my money and bagged my new purchase, which I slipped carefully into my coat pocket before searching out Esme and Carlisle.

As I looked for them, though, there were several things around the shop that caught my eye. Like the guys. Notably, the guys that had their hands in each others' pockets.

Just like earlier, it was like nobody even noticed. They walked around the room, joined at the hip, flipping through books and taking their time like it was all part of the daily norm. They were just two normal guys; one short and blond, the other taller with a bit of a receding hairline, and neither would look out of place on the street in Phoenix, or Forks.

They made it look so easy.

"You know," Carlisle interrupted my thoughts quietly, "it's not polite to stare."

I threw my gaze to the ground between my shoes, embarrassed. I hadn't meant to stare, and it made me feel like every petty gawker back home that I wanted to hide from.

"Edward," he continued in a very straightforward but thoughtful tone. "It's human nature. People will always stare whenever anything is different, or new. But it doesn't mean they bear any ill will."

He was right, of course. I certainly wasn't staring because I had a problem with them.

"And do you know how our staring has affected them?"

I finally looked up, waiting eagerly for more Cullen wisdom.

"Not at all," he said dismissively, waving a hand through the air. "I doubt they even noticed us."

Esme found us before I could answer, and looped her arm through Carlisle's.

"What'd you find? Anything good"

"I—yeah, actually, but—"

"Don't worry," Carlisle chuckled. "You don't have to tell. A man's knick knacks are his own." They he smiled fondly at Esme. "Right, honey?"

Esme pursed her lips in a way that suggested she was trying not to laugh, and leaned over to me. "You would not believe the stuff we have in the garage," she whispered loudly. "Carlisle has _action figures_."

Somehow, it wasn't hard to believe.

"Collectibles," he interrupted her. "And they're probably worth more than your pottery by now."

"Oh yes," Esme nodded. "Practically antiques." She gave him a cheeky look, and then they both laughed.

In response, or maybe to avoid one, Carlisle steered Esme out of the shop with one arm and threw the other on my shoulder. "Come on, Edward, let's go hang out with the other kids before I get any older."

So we headed for the subway, and arranged to meet them just outside Central Park. When we reached our rendezvous spot, I started to wonder what I'd tell Jasper about our morning. The first thought that came to mind was, 'Guess what, we saw so many gay guys!' but that just sounded ignorant, and dumb, so I let it go.

When Jas and Rosalie stepped out of the Central Park gates they were both laughing, probably about some inside joke I would never hear, but when Jas saw me he threw his hands up and called my name.

"Edward! Do you know how penguins walk?"

I didn't even bother to answer because he started doing this… thing. He held his arms and legs wide out, in a kind of starfish shape, and then proceeded to do a whole body wiggle. It was, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. I couldn't image any creature on the planet moving like that, let alone a bird, and I cracked up. But he was undeterred, and wobbled his way over to me while Rosalie stifled a laugh behind him.

"Well," Esme said, with just the barest hint of an eye roll, "I'm glad you learned something useful today." Then she ruffled his hair and we were on our way.

As we walked I leaned into Jasper, quietly telling him about Ali's earrings, and he pulled out the tiny I Heart NY shirt he'd gotten for Bella.

When I worried aloud over whether I should have gotten her something, he said the shirt could be from both of us, and I slipped my hand into his for a quick squeeze of thanks.

After more sightseeing and even an off-Broadway play, it was once again time for Carlisle the savior to drive us out of the city. Rosalie fell asleep against the car window, and I nearly did the same. Those trips had a way of tiring us all out.

After one more day of playing scrabble and cooking, it was time to pack up. We left on Monday morning after a few rounds of goodbyes, take cares, and repeated instructions on how to play a DVD. Since our connection in O'Hare was delayed, it was late by the time we got home.

The first thing we did – well, the very first thing we did was make sure Jas's parents had gone to bed. But the second thing we did was get completely naked. Fast.

We were both exhausted, but nothing was going to keep me from curling up with my favorite sexy body after a week of forced distance. It started off frantic and hurried, but quickly evolved into a slow, intense grinding session. Then we tangled ourselves together in his bed and just talked for a while, until his persistent erection under my leg told me it was time for a second go.

I fell asleep in my own bed, unfortunately, and didn't sleep well despite my exhaustion. I woke profanely early in the morning, and didn't bother changing into jeans or even putting my contacts in. Instead, I used the time to sneak upstairs to nab some wrapping paper and a small box.

In the light of a new day, my last minute purchase no longer felt so perfect. In my hands the pieces felt light, and drab. They were just two embroidered patches, almost like glorified boy scout badges, and they suddenly weren't enough.

_Too late now_, I thought as I curled my hands around them, and dropped them in the box. I just had to hope that Jasper would understand what they were, and why.

When I slid under his covers he was still asleep, but barely. His eyelashes fluttered when the bed dipped, and I had just a moment to take in his expressionless face.

He had the faintest trail of freckles across his nose, and his eyelashes were long and dark against his cheeks. He was terminally sexy, but lying there completely peaceful and unaware, he was purely beautiful.

He stirred as he woke, and stretched his arms out under the covers to pull me over to him. I waited until he was blinking and kissing my shoulder before I placed my shiny wrapped box on his chest.

"Mmm, presents," he hummed, grinning sleepily. Then he rolled over to his nightstand and pulled out a CD wrapped in bright yellow paper. I knew it was a CD because that shape was unmistakable, and I eyed it curiously. Especially since we both got our music online.

He seemed pretty proud of it though, and placed it directly in my hands. "You first."

I sat up next to him, cross-legged, and carefully unpeeled the tape. I stopped when I saw another face, but immediately recognized it as one of my favorite musicians. I couldn't imagine which album it was, since I had nearly every song he'd ever done including the early demos and live versions, but a quick peek at the track listing told me I should have had more faith. Jasper wasn't an Elliott Smith fan, but he must have been listening to all my rambling and ranting over the years because he'd managed to find a promotional collection of rare demos that I had never been able to download.

I thanked him by dropping myself down onto him and kissing him thoroughly. He grinned under my affection so that our teeth clacked a few times, and I was sure I heard him mutter something about a fanboy, but I kept kissing him regardless. It was only when he managed to ask about his own present that I relented.

I straightened myself up again, and picked up his box with a deep breath. He must have noticed my anticipation, because he pushed himself upright too and turned to face me before picking at the paper.

His face was carefully neutral when he opened the box, and stayed that way as he took the two patches out to hold them carefully in his palm. He eyed them for some time, not saying a word, before I finally broke.

"Do you know what they are?"

"Well," he said, picking up the grey patch with a gold star sewn into the middle. "This one kind of reminds me of Civil War rankings."

I nodded slowly. "That's the rank of Major."

He nodded back and stared down at his other palm, holding the completely empty grey one.

"And that's the Private," I continued.

"But, Private's ranks weren't designated," he said, confused. Leave it to him to know something like that. It had taken me twenty minutes with an eccentric knickknack salesman to figure that out.

"That's why it's blank."

"Okay."

He stared down at the patches in his hands, weighing them in his palms exactly like I had this morning, and looking just as enthused too. He took his time, nodding a few more times, before he finally glanced up with a wide, but unconvincing, smile.

"They're cute."

Cute. I groaned internally, because I knew I was doing this all wrong, especially if he thought it was _cute. _

So I folded my hands nervously in the bedspread, and started to explain.

"They're patches, for our backpacks."

He blinked.

"Okay. I – I was thinking about last semester, with that whole mess with Jessica."

At her name he tensed, so I tried to rush through my explanation.

"My point is," I urged on, "I want to do better. I'm trying to do better. And it took me forever, but I just thought that these were perfect. I can't believe you made those names stick, but now they just make me think of you."

I paused, and added a little indulgently, "Naked. But also not naked. It makes me think of other things, like wrestling and doing homework in the same chair and staying in bed 'til noon. I think about you whispering that nickname at night, and it just brings back all my favorite memories of us."

Okay, so brevity was not a Masen family trait. While I spoke, he sat perfectly still, looking back and forth between me and the two little insignias still balanced in his palms. He didn't smile or speak, and his lack of response was positively nerve-wracking. He sat differently though, with his chest a little fuller and his hands cupped instead of rigid, and so I soldiered on.

"I love you, you know? That's what I'm trying to say here. I do, and I made a mess 'cause I didn't say it enough. So I wanted to give you these patches so that you always know I love you, especially when I can't say it out loud. "

It was only then that he moved, leaning just barely forward and letting his mouth hang open like he was tasting his next words on the air, trying to find the right one.

I tried to help him along. "Jas? I can—"

"No," he cut me off, and his voice was more breath than sound. And then he raised his hands the way one would hold an offering before an altar. "These literally just became the best gift ever."

All the air I had trapped in my lungs came rushing out. "Really?"

Instead of answering, he slowly, gently, laid the insignias back in their box, which he moved to the nightstand. When he reached for me his whole face was soft, without any crinkle lines, except for one dimple from that lopsided smile that was his and his alone.

Hooking one hand behind my neck, he leaned across the space of our laps and kissed me once, softly. Then he did it again, and again, until I was poised over him, crawling across the bed to replace the covers keeping him warm. His kisses turned hungry, pulling the very breath out of my mouth, and his hands roamed up my back insistently like he was trying pull me so close that wherever he ended, I would begin.

We melded together, entwining our hands and legs and toes, until he craned his neck back into the pillow to see me.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "sometimes that head of yours surprises me." And then he raised his whole torso off the bed to plant one wet, firm kiss on my forehead.

"Is that a good thing?"

He nodded, heavy-lidded and looking practically post-orgasmic. "Yeah. I feel… a lot better about going back to school now."

I nodded, ashamed that he'd had doubts to ease in the first place, but also pleased and proud that I'd been able to take care of them. I had actually managed to do the right thing. For once.

I'm pretty sure what came next qualified as pillow talk, especially since he lifted his arm to make a space for me in the crook of his shoulder, and I molded myself against the planes of his body. His arms wrapped around me, gratifyingly snug, until we were both drifting closer to the extra sleep we'd been missing.

"You know," he eventually mumbled, "I thought I was the only one who liked those names."

"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how much more interesting AP History will be?"

I felt him chuckle under my chest. "Oh man, the Battle of Antietam is gonna be so much more fun now."

I snorted. "Who's the nerd now?"

He twisted his neck and raised an eyebrow at me. "Is this a war you really want to start?" And then, just to make his point, he reached his free arm across his chest to pull off my thick-framed glasses.

"No," I muttered, settling more comfortably against him without them on. And then I thought, _oh what the hell. _"Major."

* * *

**I just have to say it again. More thanks than I could possibly fit on a page to my beta Elvelethril, who makes sure this story is the best I can make it. **

**Now go vote! :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Yes! Pigs are flying, the seas have turned red, and I _am_ posting another chapter! I want to apologize for how long this took me, and to thank everyone who's stuck around. Life got... well, it got the way life often does when 'crazy' just doesn't seem to cover it anymore, but things are back on track now. And since it's been so long, I have quite a few fantastic announcements :)**

**The Slash Awards have come and gone, and I'm practically doing a happy dance when I tell you that YBF won three awards: Best Geekward/Geeksper, Best Coming Out, and Sweetest I Love You. (The amazingly gorgeous banners can be found on my profile). The results were posted when I was on a transatlantic flight, and the moment we landed I commandeered my friend's blackberry to check the results and then _did_ do a happy dance in my seat. In front of 200 strangers, no less. So, thank you to absolutely everyone who voted, whether for this story or not, for making the Slash Awards such a fun success. Also, if anyone's still looking for some good geek!love, I have to point you in the direction of theladyingrey42's A Roll of the Dice. **

** Also dance-worthy is the fact that, for the first time ever, I met my beta Elvelethril. As in, grungy and dehydrated, after 16 hours of flying, actually meeting face to face, and it was epic. Awesomely epic. **

** If you'll remember, the boys were just back from Christmas in NY. Edward had given Jas some patches for their backpacks, and they made Jasper happy :)  
****And now (finally) on to the chapter.**

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play. **

* * *

The word of the day was normal, because normal people wanted to have sex. And especially with sex talk number two coming, that was something that had been on my mind a lot. I mean, the one with Carlisle was bad enough, but it had become pretty obvious that I was going to have another with Jasper. Not that it would be another red-faced safety lecture – I was pretty damn sure it would focus on the when of it all instead.

When I thought about making love – because with Jasper, I was sure that's what it would be – of course I wanted it. I wanted to _love_ Jasper any way I could, passionately, intimately, so that he always felt it. And hell, if sex was half as good as people made it out to be, just show me the dotted line.

I had my doubts about it though. We had been working up to things, sure. Jas had slipped a finger down there, and then two. And that was all fine and dandy but…

Glancing over to make sure Jasper was still asleep, I held up two fingers. Then I pressed the tips of my thumb and forefinger together to make a nice round circle to compare, and it just…Did. Not. Compute. I mean, ow, right? Fucking ow! Not to mention the gross factor, but I could overlook that. Apparently it was supposed to feel awesome, eventually, but it was the part before the awesome I was worried about.

Not that I could ask anyone but my good friend the internet, who had actually been a little too forthcoming on the subject. As long as I didn't wander onto bible-thumping websites condemning my very existence, the internet as a whole seemed to be all for it. There were still a lot of warnings though. Lists of precautions and Q&A sites full of young boys, like me, asking when it would stop hurting. Not to mention the more colorful sites with phrases like "getting to know your sphincter" that had me clicking the X.

But there was another thing. Why? Why did it have to be me? Who said it had to be my ass getting all spelunked? Not that we'd talked about it or anything, and we were both dudes for god's sake. Plus, I'd never thought there was anything about me that said _I'd like you to bend me over, please._

Not that there was about Jasper either.

I fidgeted with the covers, pulling them up to my nose.

I was just nervous. Nervous about the pain, nervous about what it said, about me, that when the idea of sex popped into my head, Jasper was always above me.

When the hell did I become the bottom? I'd always imagined myself as an independent, responsible guy. I took care of myself and Alice back before we moved out, handling the money, checking homework and even making lunches. And now, well, I couldn't really make those claims anymore, but I was still me. And an athlete, to boot. That had to count for something, right? So if I thought about it in terms of who had to spread their knees, I just didn't see why that person was me.

Except, if I thought about it in other ways, like in terms of who was _driving_… yeah.

Yeah, someone was gonna have to take the reins, and I'd rather it be Jasper. I just trusted him, I guessed. Assuming there would be pain involved, and I doubted the internet was lying about that, I trusted Jasper to get us through it a lot better than I would. The risk of hurting him, like that, was one responsibility I did not want.

Jasper would make it good. And he wanted to.

Soon.

I couldn't avoid the topic forever. Not only because yes, obviously, I did want to lose my virginity eventually, but because I didn't want there to be another miscommunication meltdown, and the only way to avoid that was to actually communicate. Even if that was harder than it looked.

Actively trying to be a better boyfriend had, well, it had worked out so far. Not that anything had changed. I mean, it's not like we held hands when we'd met the guys for pizza over break, but I'd been attempting to be more aware of Jasper. Christmas was my dry run, and maybe that just made my success rate one for one, but so what? I had tried to make Jas happy – not just happy, but secure, really – and it worked. Jas had said the patches made him feel better, which of course made me feel better, and that was one big feedback loop I was happy to be stuck in. Especially after realizing that Jas would have just let it slide if I really had gotten him a shitty-ass present.

So yeah, communication. The big buzz word. It was definitely Jas's cure-all, and in my more optimistic moments I could see how it would go. I would tell him my concerns and he would just talk them away, telling me I was all man, maybe even a studly one at that, and had nothing to worry about. Except he'd do it in some deep and meaningful way that I could never think up on my own, and then it would be better.

Hell, it had even worked with Rosalie. Okay, she still avoided me like I was Typhoid Mary, but she had quite distinctly managed to not be a pain in my ass this past week. And, again, it seemed to make Jas happy, and that was a change I could get behind.

I was startled from my musings by a knock on the door, the rattling and banging shaking it in its frame, and I felt the uncomfortable spike of panic that was so out of place in our cozy fortress of blankets.

I really hated that loud sort of knocking, especially when I was in Jasper's bed instead of my own.

Oops?

Yeah… no. Not really.

I kind of hated whoever was doing the pounding too, just a little, but I also suspected it was Esme and that we would be in trouble if she found us in bed together again.

In the week since we'd gotten home from New York, it had been a mad rush to finish my college apps. It was hard to concentrate when I could be out running, or with the guys, or hanging with Jasper, or more than hanging with Jasper. Still, though, Esme had insisted my education was important and had helped me edit and re-edit my essays until they were the best I could make them. Truthfully, I knew she was right, and in my calmer moments I appreciated the help, but I still had a newfound and very personal grudge against commas. And Jasper has used that time to wander toward Rosalie's end of the hallway, so it's not like I was missing out on anything.

They were all in now– the applications – and I thought that should warrant me some peace. Apparently not, though.

It has been a memorable night, even if it had come with the urgency of sex on the horizon, and we had exhausted ourselves for sure. So with Jasper's steady, heavy breath and skewed limbs, I knew it was up to me to deal with the knocking.

The door shook again, insistent as ever, and I launched myself out of his bed to find some pants. Mine were in a pile in his bathroom, but his were closer, so I pulled them on and hoped Esme didn't notice that they were a little baggy.

As I reached the door, though, it wasn't Esme's voice I heard.

"Guys, I know you're in there."

I had already started to pull the door open when I stalled, mentally, and then stuck just my head out to find Rosalie. "What?"

"Oh, god. Tell me you guys weren't—"

I pushed the door open farther, showing her my obviously buttoned, if rumpled, pants. "We were sleeping."

"Oh." She pushed a strand of straw-blonde hair out of her eyes with one finger, her eyes darting to the bed. "Mom said you guys have an open door policy, just like me and Emmett."

"Are you gonna tell her?"

"No, I—" She stopped with a huff and crossed her arms roughly. "I was just gonna tell you that Mom called and she'll be home in a few, but never mind."

I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you warning us?"

Cue Rosalie's patented eye-roll.

"I'm warning _Jasper._ But I guess you're part of the package, so you're welcome, jerk." And then she stomped back towards her own room.

I sighed and spooled up the energy to follow after her, mostly because when the 'Edward was an asshole' story was relayed to Jasper, I wanted to make sure I didn't actually come off as one. I did take the time to get comfortably dressed in my own pants, though.

When I approached Rosalie's door, I heard the steady sound of the shower from further down the hall and instead found Emmett sitting alone in her room with the door conscientiously open.

He nodded from the edge of her bed when he spotted me. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Hey. I, uh, just wanted to tell Rosalie something," I said somewhat awkwardly.

"She's showering right now," he said, all casual and easy like Rosalie and I always stopped by each other's door for a bit of gossip. "But I'll tell her to knock on our way out?"

"Umm." Like that would happen. "No, that's ok. Will you just tell her I said thanks?"

"Oh yeah, no prob. No one wants to get caught by the parentals."

He still grinned as he said it, like it was no big deal, and I think that's why that sentence was okay with me for about half a second. I even turned to leave before there was a long beat where I realized what he'd really said. Before I realized Rosalie had lied.

My words came out way more indignant than I meant them, blanketing the fact that all I really felt was dread. "You know."

"Know? Oh, yeah man." He waved a hand through the air. "But it's cool."

Were we even having the same conversation? Maybe not, if… no. If he knew Rosalie had come to warn us about Esme, he knew why.

"She promised." I pointed one accusing finger towards the bathroom. "Jasper said she promised, and instead she opened her fat mouth—"

"Hey!" he cut me off, dropping the grin and finally standing up. "Don't just come in here and start saying shit about my girlfriend."

Somehow, he was a whole lot bigger when he wasn't smiling. And surprisingly protective of Rosalie, considering he wasn't actually whipped.

Still, though. "Your girlfriend who couldn't keep a damn secret."

"Hey," he said again, suddenly whispering but loudly, like Rosalie could magically hear us through two walls and the rush of water. "No one told your damn secret. Rosie's kept up her end of the deal, and she's not the one shooting her mouth off right now."

Maybe he'd just been pummeled by one too many linebackers to think clearly?

"She did," I answered slowly, but through my teeth, "since we're having this conversation."

"Dude." He took in a breath that puffed up his chest and shook a flat hand in the air like it could erase everything I'd said. "I don't count."

"Oh, well, if people just don't count."

"Jesus, man. Would you, like, turn it down a notch? What do you think's gonna happen? That we'll blab to the whole football team?"

I didn't think he meant it, but it didn't stop that thought from blooming with full force. Emmett kept talking, but it was hard to hear him above the oh shit oh shit oh shit rushing through my ears. I imagined walking into a school full of people who… _knew. _The football team would tell the cheer squad, and Cheer would tell, well, everyone. And then Jasper and I would never be alone again.

Just thinking about it made me anxious – the kind of anxiety I hadn't truly felt in a while, that rushed up from my toes and deflated my lungs and made my skin all hot and tingly in the bad way. People would stare and the girls would laugh and the guys would probably throw a punch or two. I could see the disgusted look on Yorkie's face, hear the words coming out of Tyler's mouth.

I knew what they'd all do. Once they found out, it wouldn't just be me and Jas anymore, it'd be the voices of everyone we knew having their say. Questioning us, judging us, trying to edit what we did and felt and convince us of how wrong it was. And above all, trying to change us.

I put a hand over my eyes to block out the thoughts, but instead it just left me alone with them. I tried to go through the routine of calming myself down, but lately that had always involved Jasper. What did Jasper do?

Breathe. He'd always tell me to breathe, so I did.

A bright one, that boyfriend of mine.

"Hey man, you gonna pass out or something?"

I looked up to see Emmett had taken a couple steps back, and while he wasn't back to his old casual routine, he looked a lot less aggressive. More… wary.

I shook my head and let my hand drop to the side.

"No joke, we're not gonna tell anyone. I swear."

Damn straight it was no fucking joke.

He ran a hand through his buzz cut on a long pause and then said, "Rosie's like… well. Look, if I'd known you were gonna flip out I wouldn't've said anything. But Rosie, she's like my Jasper. Or I'm hers or whatever, but me and her keep each other's secrets, okay? I'm not tryin' to mess you up here."

He stopped, looking at me expectantly, and while I didn't exactly feel better, I did feel less shitty. Plus, the breathing was slowly curbing the adrenaline rush I'd given myself, which made it easier to focus.

"Yeah, okay."

He nodded with a rhythm that moved his whole body and finally smiled again. He was back to the Emmett I typically saw around school, and he dropped himself back down to the bed.

"You're kinda one intense dude, you know that?"

_So they kept telling me. _

"So, we good? Rose'll be pissed if I gotta tell her I broke the peace."

I brought up a quick smile – for him, not her. I wouldn't want to condemn anyone to her wrath, and the longer it sank in the more it seemed like things might be okay. I mean, I trusted Jas with everything. And if, for whatever reason, Emmett was just as loyal to Rosalie then okay.

"Yeah," I finally said. "We're good. So, I guess, thanks."

He laughed at whatever it was he found funny and waved me off, and I shuffled my way toward the door.

"Oh, hey, Edward?"

I looked back over my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting Rose and Jasper do their thing."

"Oh, uh…" Yeah, what was I supposed to say to that?

Emmett grinned, but instead of his typical life's-a-party smile, he had one that seemed a lot more self-conscious, but also a lot more genuine.

"I dunno 'bout yours," he said with an easy half-shrug, "but my Cullen's been a lot happier lately."

Huh.

I gave the old standard _sure, man_ nod and got myself back to my own room.

I actually liked Emmett, I decided. He was pretty alright. I mean, I still got the 'I could pummel you into next Sunday' vibe from him sometimes in passing, but I might have just been confusing that with muscle mass.

And like he'd said, we both had a Cullen. I had never really thought about it like that before, but we were kind of in the same boat. Okay, no, my boat was so weird it was like being the captain of a ghost ship – I was never going to see anybody else in it – but the two of us were the Cullens' boyfriends.

And if Emmett was cool with that, well, I guessed I was cool with him.

It was odd, too, to think of them like that. As a pair. Jasper and Rosalie Cullen. The Cullens we were in love with, like they both had this indescribable but genetic charm that drew us in. Not that I saw the appeal of his Cullen, at all, but to each his own or whatever.

Jasper found me just as I got back to my room, leaning against the door jamb with his hip and wearing the jeans I'd been in half an hour earlier. His curls were a mess, and I could tell he'd tried to tuck them behind his ears, but it still looked like bedhead to me. Sexy bedhead.

"Ready for the Swans'?"

"Breakfast first?" I asked hopefully, and he just smiled his easy morning smile.

"Lunch, but yeah."

Lunch would have to do, and I untucked his curls the way I liked them before I turned down the hallway. Esme found us there, meeting fully dressed between our rooms, and seemed pleased that we were adhering to the separate beds policy so well. So of course we grinned innocently down at her and followed her to the kitchen for sandwiches.

The plan for Bella's was mostly a gift exchange, though I had a more covert mission of discussing Alice's court date with Charlie too. Not covert in the secret way, so actually not really covert at all, but the topic made Ali antsy and I was hoping to get a few more of the details without bothering her. Because, just like most things that had to do with Alice and the fallout from, well, _that_, Charlie's guardianship was something that made me tight in the stomach, and I wanted as many details to hang onto as possible.

Stealth, that was the word I was looking for.

When we finally made it to Bella's there was already an extra car in the driveway, but I didn't see why that needed to change our plans so I just parked on the street.

Alice opened the door wearing Christmas wreath earrings, even though it was January, and led us to the living room while Bella quizzed Jas about New York. We found Seth waiting for us there, which was both weird and a bit of a surprise, but after we all said our hellos he kissed Alice on the cheek and said he'd be in the kitchen.

Both girls were excited to hear details of the trip, even though Alice had already heard some of them, and it wasn't long before they were both begging to see the penguin walk.

Not that I had quietly tipped Alice off to its existence, or anything.

Jas gave me the _really?_ look, with one eyebrow up and his mouth tight but amused, and Bella had a way of doing this quiet, hopeful look that won him over in no time. So Jas was wrigglin' like a fish on the end of a line and studiously ignoring the way both girls were snorting silently into their hands when Charlie came into the room, followed by—

"Mrs. Clearwater?"

Jasper lurched, clamping his hands to the side and for once seeming unable to prevent the pink tinge on his cheeks.

The girls snorted harder. So dainty, they were.

Mrs. Clearwater, though, just charged forward with a full plate of cookies, and Seth was close enough on her heels to snag one before it even made it to the coffee table. The sniff test confirmed that, yes, she had just baked them here.

"Hi, boys" she said brightly, wiping her hands off on her long, brick-red skirt. "And call me Sue."

"You boys had lunch yet?" Charlie asked, settling himself into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. "Sue makes a mean fish fry."

He grinned and we grinned back, but for entirely different reasons. One look at Bella's politely blank face confirmed that it was getting ever closer to the day where she finally told her father how much she hated steelhead and trout and, yes, even salmon. A few subtle glances between us confirmed that everyone under forty was in on the joke, even Seth.

So we avoided the topic by stuffing our mouths with snickerdoodles instead, and waving our shiny wrapped presents in the air. The girls instantly perked up, and Seth settled for leaning against the wall to leave the couch to us.

Bella gushed over the shirt Jas had gotten her, and hugged me too when he said it was from both of us, just like he'd promised. While she ran upstairs to put it on, I handed Alice her jewelry box.

I should have remembered how animated girls got over presents. Alice squealed just like Bella had, and quickly swapped out her seasonal earrings for the feathered ones I'd gotten her. After checking them in the reflection of a picture frame, and then a real mirror in the hallway, she planted herself in front of Seth and asked, "What do you think?"

I was gonna be pissed if his was the make-or-break opinion, but he caught my eye before watching her shake her head to show them off and said, "They're really great."

Behind him, his mom laughed. "I taught him well," she said, with just a touch of pride. Then she lifted one finger to wag good-naturedly towards me and Jas. "You boys too. The first trick to dating, always tell a girl she looks great."

There was the briefest pause where he looked at Ali and her eyes shot to us, and I had just started gearing myself up to change the topic when Mrs. Clearwater tried to ruffle Seth's hair.

"Mo-om."

With an inconvenienced grunt, Seth played the good-natured part of the burdened son and spent more time than necessary patting his hair back into disarray with his palms.

Moments later, Bella came quietly back down the stairs in her tourist-chic t-shirt and asked, "What'd I miss?"

And so went the afternoon. It wasn't quite the family time I'd been expecting, but apparently Seth and his mom had called when they were in town for an errand and Charlie had invited them over. I guessed it was still loosely kind of family time, in a makeshift kind of way, even if most of us weren't actually related to each other.

And speaking of family, I slipped over to Charlie after a while to ask if he could go over the details with me again. And Charlie…

Well, a kinder person would make sure to include a 'bless his soul' so… Charlie was about as subtle as a bullhorn in a library, bless his soul.

"Sure thing, son. We're all set to go for Wednesday—"

Alice's head whipped around, eyes narrow and startled, and I sighed. So much for stealth. Jasper's eyes snapped to mine too, but they offered solidarity. Commiserating in a 'yeah, so that sucked' way that made it at least slightly better.

It was Mrs. Clearwater that spoke up first, gently suggesting in a voice she probably usually reserved for her accident-prone students, "Maybe Edward wants to talk in private?"

"Well," Charlie said, taking in that idea with a slow nod in my direction, "Sue and Seth know what's goin' on, but we can talk in the kitchen if you want."

Just… damn. Because Mrs. Clearwater was nice and all, and obviously Seth was in Alice's corner, but wasn't that still our personal family business?

Except, there was _family_ again, blurring into _love_ like two words from a felt-tipped pen on wet paper.

Jas pushed himself to the edge of the couch, poised to stand, and his eyes were studying me for any 'Edward' kind of reaction. The silent kind that drew up anxieties and stomach aches and required a reminder to breathe, and I was grateful to him in that moment for just _knowing._

But him just knowing helped, and this was also part of me trying to be better. To not be the boyfriend he had to rescue from awkward situations, and to stay calm like a normal person. Besides, as much as I disliked this topic, it was always Alice that was the most torn over it.

And judging from the way she was picking fiercely at her cuticles and tucking her head into Seth's side, I had to get this conversation elsewhere, stat.

I wondered, briefly, if Alice saw things like Emmett did; if she saw Seth as her Jasper, as the one who would just know when she was having a hard moment. How could he, though, when they'd just met each other?

But maybe he was her Jasper _so far_ and, really, maybe that's as good a start as any.

After the deep breath I knew I should take, I tried to calmly and straightforwardly divert the conversation. I couldn't think of anything casual enough to say, though, and ended up darting for the kitchen instead.

So, calm and straightforward was a work in progress – that was Jasper's skill set, not mine.

Charlie came into the kitchen a few moments later, blinking and rubbing his mustache, and pulled out a wooden chair to sit himself down in.

"Alright," he started, thankfully too much of a no-nonsense guy to comment on the mood, or anything. "Details."

Most of it I'd heard before, but it helped to hear it again. In three day's time, Ali and I wouldn't be the only Masens in Forks anymore. Not that I thought she was actually changing her name – though I mentally noted to double check that – but she'd belong to someone else's family more. I was handing my sister's wellbeing over to someone else, without doing a thing at all.

_Charlie_, I reminded myself. _Not just someone, but Charlie. _

Just like we'd been over before, it was a good thing. It was.

And so having the details of the day, the hearing, the schedule, made it easier to wrap my head around it all. Easier to prepare, to have a mental checklist in my head so that at least as things progressed I could still tell myself it was all going according to plan.

Charlie really spared no detail, talking through finances and power of attorney and if, _god forbid_, there were any medical emergencies, how that would all play out. I cringed at that, already feeling like my stomach was digesting itself, and promised him I understood. He told me who would be in the courtroom with us, and why, and taught me a lot more about the judicial system in ten minutes than I'd learned in my life, but it was all good information to have.

Comforting, if absolutely useless.

He did remind me that I didn't have to be there, if I didn't want to or had to be in class or something, but I waved it off.

Esme would have known not to ask.

He seemed surprised when I said Jasper would be coming too, since it was just a matter of telling things like they were and signing some papers, really, but that was a done deal too.

Our conversation had gone like this:

_Are you coming? Yes._ The end.

Charlie prepped me like he would a deputy, and then some, and over half an hour had passed before he gave me a stiff nod and said that about covered it.

Then he cleared his throat and I nodded back.

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Yup. Sure."

With nothing left to say, we both stood and I led the way through the swing-door back to the living room to see if Jas was ready to go. I wasn't really in the mood to make small talk anymore, and would be perfectly fine with initiating the goodbye process so long as Ali was doing alright.

I shouldn't have worried though, leaving her in a room full of people who loved her. As soon as I had my head through the door, Jasper caught my eye with a smirk I rarely saw in public, one that was fun and lighthearted and teasing. His playful look.

"Your sister," he announced in a dramatic tone, "is hogging all the cookies."

Sure enough, Alice and Bella were huddled at one edge of the couch with the plate circled protectively in their arms.

"The boys kept eating them," Ali protested, exasperated but grinning, and Bella managed to swallow down her giggles long enough to back her up.

"Really, Edward. Sue and I made like three batches, and now they're almost gone."

My eyes panned to Seth, who had hands held up in defeat, and then to Jasper who was making a show of brushing the crumbs off his lap.

I decided that, maybe, it'd be alright to stick around for a bit longer.

We did make it home before dinner, though, even if we were too stuffed with sugar to eat. Esme tsked disapprovingly, but Carlisle had a very 'boys will be boys' attitude and told us it was polite to sit with the family anyway. Which was fine by us, really. Trying to wriggle our cold feet up the bottom of each other's jeans passed the time well enough.

Of course, that meant I was slipping into Jasper's room practically the moment we heard Esme's footsteps on the stairs. We were making out within a minute, tops, and huddled on our sides under his covers not long after that. Still, though, I waited for him to push it that one step farther.

Because I had the notion that if I held off, waited just long enough, he would have to take control. In fact, I knew he would. Impatient Jasper was a sexy Jasper, dragging his blunt fingernails down my back, undulating his hips against mine unconsciously, and finally…

_Yes._

Shifting himself up onto his elbow, pushing my shoulder down to the mattress, and flattening himself over me until I felt a thrill ripple through my chest. The moment where he gave in and took charge, where I knew the best part was about to come – there was sheer pleasure in the anticipation.

I gripped his ass, slipping my hands under his boxers to press and knead his skin and pull him down onto me.

"Jesus Christ, Edward"

I grinned into the darkness. He liked it too.

Technically we were celebrating the end of my college apps, the beginning of the home stretch, but it's not like we really needed a reason. Ever. So for no particular reason, Jas started angling his knee back and forth, wedging it between mine, until we both had each other's thighs to drag our bulges shamelessly against. It was full-on sensation, more bang for our buck.

Not that there were bucks involved. Or banging.

But I could feel how Jasper was enjoying himself, just as much as I was, and soon his boxers weren't enough to contain him so I pushed them down to his thighs.

"Edward," he whispered against my ear, before he started sucking on that soft spot just behind it that made me writhe.

"Yeah?" I encouraged, hoping for a bit of that mumbly sexy talk that always made me hot.

In his pause I felt him grin against my neck and I suspected he was just torturing me, making me wait for it.

"Edward," he said again. "You know what I've been thinking about?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, more than willing to play the innocent.

He tilted his hips in a way that offered the most encouraging pressure and whispered, "Yet."

_Yet._

I stilled, despite the sensations, and my hands froze against his hips. My voice was cracked and dry, doing nothing to hide how nervous the thought made me. "Now?"

I felt him smile again as he left a trail of wet but soft kisses along my neck. "No, not doing it now." He contradicted himself by dragging his knee a little higher, sending a pleasurable pulse through my groin that was completely at odds with the way my head was buzzing. "But I'm really looking forward to it."

I tried to pick up where I'd stopped, roaming my hands in jerky movements along his back to mimic the enthusiasm he felt, but I swear he had an all-access pass to my thoughts because within moments he had pushed himself up and back, leaving a buffer of dry air between our chests. I guessed it was obvious, because the correct response was probably _oh yeah baby, me too, stick it in me_ or something and I had completely botched that response.

"Edward?"

I was itching to just wrap my feet back over his calves and say _after, we'll talk about it after_, but he was already starting to shift himself off me.

"No," I said, wanting to keep his weight against me, and catching his ribs between my hands. "Stay."

I really didn't want to talk about this now, especially since I was enjoying myself, damnit, but there was no evading Jasper this time. Besides, this was the plan, to man up and talk about it. Right? To make sure Jas didn't think I was keeping anything else hidden. Because I wasn't, and that was the whole point.

I think I'd been hoping to feel a little… manlier when we had this conversation though. More validated in my concerns and less like the insecure, girly buzzkill, but so much for that. And on top of that my own wavering annoyed me, because who couldn't have a simple conversation with their boyfriend about sex?

"I'm just nervous, alright?" I said, feeling much smaller than usual and really not liking it.

"I didn't mean now, Edward," he said softly, with a tone of apology in his voice. "It was just a nice thought."

I took the moment to rein in my own annoyance. "It just… the whole thing just makes me nervous."

He pushed himself up again, locking his elbows, and said, "Close your eyes a sec."

I did, and felt the light flood behind my eyelids. His bedside lamp was a dimmer so we weren't blinded, but I still blinked several times before I could focus on him against the shadowy walls.

Then he settled back over me, still on his elbows, but twisting the tips of his fingers into my hair. "Nervous?"

I huffed, mostly at myself 'cause it sounded even lamer with the light on, but nodded. "Yeah."

"That it'll hurt?"

Well. It looked like we were on the same page about who went where, at least. Joy.

"We'll be careful," he said, whispering across the brief space between our mouths. "I'll go slow."

"I know," I whispered back, because of course I wasn't worried Jas would just roughly have his way with me. "I just feel weird."

"Weird how?"

He was watching me intently, from only inches away, and I really just wanted to abandon the conversation and feel big again, but I kept telling myself to just do it Jasper's way. _Tell him, and then it will be better. _

"Weird like… why me?"

He paused and I could practically see him tasting his next words, choosing them carefully, until he eventually settled on, "Which 'why you'?"

I nodded, slanting my eyes to the side with a tiny nod that conceded he had a point there. And he gave me the lip service of a half-smile, but quickly went back to watching and waiting. He pressed his lips together, thinking, and then I felt him pull up his boxers between us, reminding me that where we had been headed had become merely an afterthought to our conversation. Carefully, he slid himself to the side, propping his head up on a fist with his elbow digging into the edge of my pillow, but he still left half his body covering mine.

It was easier when we stayed close, somehow.

"Sorry I made this into a thing," I said quietly.

"I'm still not exactly sure what this thing is."

"It's just making me, I guess, evaluate stuff, you know? About you and me."

With his entire body curled around mine, it was impossible to miss the way he tensed. It was so immediate, so all-consuming. His chest sucked in and his hand was suddenly pressing too hard against my chest. His whole head had snapped so he could meet my eyes directly, and there was nothing but panic. Silent, contained panic.

"No," I said, too loudly, and it was good that he was so close, because I tightened my arms around his back and pressed us even closer. "God, no. Not that, Jas." I scrambled to touch as much of him as I could, to be as together and intertwined as possible, because I hadn't for a moment wanted to insinuate anything else. My palms roamed all over as he inhaled deeply and I quickly took hold of his face so I could kiss him.

He kissed back with his whole breath, sucking air from my mouth and giving it back, before he buried his head into the pillow at the crook of my neck.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, still rubbing his back because that always made me feel better, and holy crap I was even worse at this than I thought. Epically bad. Talking was just not my strong suit – especially today. "I'm sorry."

"Jesus Christ, Edward," he groaned into the pillow, but the arm not pinned beneath him came up to my collar bone, holding on tightly. "Just tell me what's going on."

So I did. I gave up any pretense, just to get as far away from this misunderstanding as possible, and blurted, "Why do I have to be on bottom?"

The word felt oddly foreign as I said it aloud, _bottom_, so commonplace but so suddenly full of connotation and implication. I almost thought I heard him laugh, muffled against the pillow, but when he looked up his face was soft again, relieved. "You scared the crap out of me there."

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

And then he settled back against my shoulder, not nearly as relaxed as we had been before, but at least comfortable. "Alright," he prompted me. "So."

Oh, embarrassment, that old black magic. It didn't hit nearly as hard as it had before, though, so I just let my thoughts bubble up to the surface. "Just… what I said."

"Do you not want to?"

"No, I do," I promised. "I want to do it too."

"No," he smiled, playing with the ends of my hair again, catching his fingers in the tangles and loosening them out. "I mean, would you rather be on top?"

He made it sound so easy. Like we could just switch it around if we wanted to. "Don't you?"

"Uh. Well, I guess, yeah. That's how I always pictured it."

I cringed. "Always?"

He tilted his head up to look at me again, and pursing his lips and thinking again. "Actually, no. I was kind of hoping we could try it both ways, eventually. We can do it the other way first, if you want."

And honestly, I believed him. I had no doubt that if I asked to be on top, he'd let me. Which is part of why I loved him so goddamn much. But the problem wasn't that he wanted me on bottom, it was that I did too.

"No, not really."

He settled back against me, and I could feel his toes flexing into the mattress to balance himself. "Then we'll start off with what we both want, right?"

"Yeah," I said, with a sigh. "I just don't understand what it is about me, then. Why am I the girl?"

"Edward," he said slowly, "The bottom, not the girl."

"Same difference though, right?"

And again he was staring, watching me in a way that was only not gaping because he managed to keep his mouth shut, and then his eyes flitted all around in a moment of confusion and I was starting to regret being so glib. "No, Edward. Not to me, it isn't. That's the whole point, that there's no girl."

"No, I know," I said, backpedalling hastily. "Obviously." But he still rolled himself backwards, pulling his leg away from me. I elbowed myself up too, so I could look him in the eye, and tried to explain. "But with normal couples there's a guy and a girl, and with us—"

I stopped because he angled his head just slightly to the side and winced, holding the expression like the pain just wouldn't stop and it was suddenly obvious that I had said the wrong thing. Again.

He wet his lips and took a breath, and his voice surprised me when he spoke. It was cold, suddenly distant and automated. "We are normal."

"Okay, but I'm just saying—"

"No, Edward. There's no girl here, and there doesn't have to be one."

Well, except… didn't that all depend on your definition of normal?

"Jas," I said, hushed, "I didn't say that."

But he raised an eyebrow that said, _didn't you?_ and I though, _fine, _if he wanted to take it literally.

"I didn't say that on purpose," I amended.

Instead of making things better, though, that just made him twist up his mouth in a pucker like some lemon had done him wrong. His forehead was scrunched up too, still pained, and he swallowed hard before looking away.

"I know," he said, with one big breath that seemed to drag all the air out of him. "You're usually more careful than that."

And suddenly I felt like I'd been caught in a lie. A lie of omission, maybe, and not even really because it wasn't like I spent my time trying to deceive him. We were getting by just fine the way we were, so why bring up uncomfortable truths?

"You know, there's nothing wrong with being different," he said, collapsing onto his back with a soft whump.

"I never said that."

"I know, but you believe it. Sometimes…" He trailed off, and I craned my neck until I could see his face, or the side of it not turned away, at least. "Sometimes it seems like you think we're getting away with doing something wrong."

His words echoed into the open room, aimed away from me like somehow they could do less damage that way. And maybe it did lessen the sting, to not have to look him in the eyes, because I didn't exactly have a comeback for that.

Sure, I'd argue with his word choice, but the weight of the conversation had just gotten so heavy, left the air in my lungs so thin that I just didn't have the energy to argue semantics. Because, yes, I did think we were getting off easy as long as we flew under the radar.

He didn't look at me again until he levered himself up to sitting, and when he did his eyebrows were still steep over tight, guarded eyes.

"Do I make you feel weird, Edward?"

I craned forward in an attempt to get closer, to study his face more clearly to figure out what answer he wanted to hear. Because I couldn't just say no. _No, Jasper, me and apple pie are about as normal as you get. _Thatlie was bordering on blatant, and we both knew it.

So, instead, I just went with the truth. "I always feel weird, Jas."

Since before I'd moved to Forks, even, that was just the name of the game. And now weird had become not knowing whether you ever wanted to see your father again, and worrying about who had custody of your little sister, and turning your best friend into your home and lover all in one.

Jas nodded slowly, rocking his whole upper body in a slow, pendulum motion. Then he pushed his hair back with a sloppy hand and said, "I guess I knew that."

And that's all he said, because that's who he was. No accusations or trying to correct me. No yelling, no getting mad. Just disappointment, thick and heavy.

We both sat in the darkness, less than a foot away but silenced by the thick, swirling clouds of our own thoughts. I could practically feel them, dampening the air, matting our hair to our foreheads and choking the words back down our throats, and all because I'd opened my damn mouth in the first place. I'd made him think no when I meant yes, pushed him away when I'd tried to let him in, and thought we were just talking about sex when, really, it was never that simple.

We were so well matched most of the time – how we made each other laugh, how we liked geeking out, the way we felt about each other and how easy it was to just be us. Unfortunately, it was the rest of the world we couldn't agree on. When it came down to it, Jas and I just had different standards for what was publically acceptable. Some people were as normal as the sun rising or the grass growing. For me, it was just a setting on the dryer.

After a time he said, with no warning, "I wish you didn't want us to hide."

I wondered for a moment if he was going to bring up New York, and the millions of people who didn't give a good god damn what we did with or our own time, but he didn't.

I hadn't ever told him about Chelsea. Because the truth was, all those proud couples in Chelsea didn't make me feel any safer in Forks. And if that wasn't clear the moment we landed, five minutes alone with Emmett and the truth had made it painfully obvious this morning.

"How-" I started, and then had to clear my throat because we had both been sitting, contemplating, in silence for a little too long. "How are you so okay with everything?"

He looked at me then, still and alert. He studied my face and blinked slowly until he said, "Fuck 'em."

I blinked back.

"All those people that make you feel like there's something wrong with us, just fuck 'em."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you," I mentioned quietly, but it just made his head sink lower between his hunched shoulders. So much for my success record.

I wanted to rub the tense spot across his neck until it loosened up, to promise that none of this mattered and mean it, because I was trying to be better. Damnit, I really was. I wanted to do and say the right thing, but my traitorous mouth had already dug a deep enough hole for one night, so instead I whispered the one thing I knew was safe.

"I love you."

He tipped his head to the side and laid it on the arm he had draped across his knees.

"I love you too."

And for once, it didn't fix anything.

* * *

**...**

**... Don't hate me? Well, we all knew it was coming, some way or another. **

**Thanks to Elvelethril, as always, for putting up with my incessant questioning and reminding me that spaces go between words. **


	23. Chapter 23

So, I'm back. With another chapter. I got a couple PMs asking if I'd dropped this story, and the answer is no, no, and definitely not. I know it takes me a while, but my new years resolution was actually to get these out faster. We're actually coming close to the end (relatively speaking), and there'll probably be another 4-6 chapters plus the epilogue. Unless I get all uncontrollably wordy like I sometimes do, and then you'll have more.

I want to say thank you to pepolas and PurpleBookWorm for still caring about this story when it was practically MIA, and to my bestest beta, Elvelethril, because she makes everything that much more fun.

Also, for anyone who's interested, all my stuff is now cross posted to bythedamned(dot)livejournal(dot)com in case FFnet goes on another bender, or you just like LJ better.

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.**

* * *

_"I love you."_

_He tipped his head to the side and laid it on the arm he had draped across his knees._

_"I love you too."_

_And for once, it didn't fix anything._

* * *

The worst thing was, nothing changed. At all. Or maybe that was the best thing, 'cause it's not like I wanted Jas to pick up the world as I knew it and shake it like a child's toy until all the loose pieces fell out. But at the same time, how was it even possible?

Jas was still Jas – friendly, smiling, even polite. Hell, specially polite. He still waited until I'd unbuckled my seatbelt to get out of the car, and grumbled over Mrs. Beekman's choice of essay topic with me. Which was great and all – it wasn't like I wanted to fight. Besides, even if I did, Jas wouldn't, oh no. There'd be no raised voices, ever. He would just sit there, staring at dust motes lit up by the one meager bedside lamp and _not fight_ as hard as he could. And then in the morning – back to normal.

I knew I should be grateful, because dating a pacifist was at the top of the 'quit your whining' list, but it still left me feeling like I'd been knocked unbalanced. Like even though he hadn't pushed me over, he wasn't there to help me back up anymore either.

Something was off. He knew it, I knew it, but he was still the same old Jas. Which, of course, encouraged the festering knot in my stomach, dripping acid into my anxiety and making it impossible to sleep. If Jas was his same old self, even this upset, how far back did the _wrong_ go? Besides the obvious bumps, and Ali's play, because we'd talked those out. And I was trying, damnit.

Or maybe it didn't matter. Maybe, sure, we had our friction like all couples, but it didn't matter in the face of everything that was right. Because we were good, always good, and this was just a little spat.

That was the thought that helped me finally get to sleep, somewhere around three in the morning, when even the creaks of the wooden house had settled down.

Jas smiled in the morning, and I did my best to return the favor as we plopped ourselves into the icy car, our frosty breaths mingling in the wide space between us. He tucked his hands between his knees, replacing heat with friction, and I prayed to the gods of outdated engines that the car wasn't too cold to start. We wouldn't even be at school long, but Esme said we had to go.

"There's nothing to worry about."

"I know," I said, too sharply, and I took in a chilly breath before trying again. "I know." Even if it was just a reminder of that other thing that ate away at my calm. It shouldn't be such a big deal, Charlie signing my sister over to himself like it hadn't already been that way for ages. Years. Just making it official, now, right in time for her fifteenth birthday. But again, if things could change so drastically and still look the same, how could you ever really know where you stood?

And there I went, riding the other worry-train I frequented. In this, though, it helped that Jas was the same, still creeping a hand over to my knee for a reassuring squeeze. I did muster up a real smile, then, because the world couldn't be that off-kilter if Jas was still putting up with my spaz attacks.

"It's just my brain, you know? And it won't listen when I tell it to stop."

I could see his tiny laugh in the crystallized air more than I could hear it, but it still helped thaw the atmosphere.

Jas and I would be at school just long enough for one class because Esme was picking us and Bella up for the hearing at ten. Charlie had let Alice skip school entirely today, which was probably a great idea except that I wished I could see her first. The way it was set up, we'd be meeting them just outside the courtroom.

As soon as I settled into History, I texted her.

**All ready to go?**

I fidgeted through half a lecture of slavery laws before I got an answer.

**Charlie's making me wear slacks. Slacks! **

**I'm sorry?**

**Me too, I'm going to put them out of their misery once this stupid day is over. **

Ms. Belfy looked up when I laughed, but I swallowed it down with a cough and tried to look apologetic. Only Alice would care what pants she wore to a guardianship hearing. And maybe it made me a bad brother, a bad person even, but I was kind of relieved that Alice wasn't leaping into this arrangement without a backwards glance. I knew better than to think we were both on edge for the same reason, but still. It had taken us both a long time to build up our new families, but why did that mean we had to fracture the old?

I knew why, I told myself, and it was the right thing. The right thing. That was the chant that got my butt all the way to the courtroom.

The seats were long and wooden, as stiff and unwelcoming as church pews, and I was surprised to see strangers in the room. Charlie hadn't mentioned that, had already made my mental schedule for the day unreliable, and it made my jaw tense and my fingernails clack against the underside of the bench.

Jasper's fingers were dry as they slid between mine, quelling the noise of my anxiety and trying to siphon some of it into himself. I didn't know how he did it, how he always did it, but it helped. The warm pressure of his hand and the slight nod he gave me when I looked up. Like he had the master schedule and everything was playing out according to plan. Like everything would be okay, just because he was keeping an eye on it.

He let me go easily, though, when Alice slid in beside me. I'd thought she'd be huddled over with Bella, going through whatever girl-ritual they had for times of stress, but instead she just pulled her knees up to her chest, getting snowy footprints all over the bench. Whatever, it deserved it. Her hair was pinned back in a way that made her look even younger, but her pants were just pants. I couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

When I propped an elbow up on the rigid backrest, Alice slid noiselessly over, and seemed content to sit in the awkward shadow of my arm. Her eyes were up front, watching some schmuck haggle his case with the judge, but her shoulders slowly drifted against my side and I let my arm drape around her.

It was like a reminder of my real purpose here. I didn't just tag along to fidget and fuss, I was here to support Alice, her oldest rock before she'd discovered the rest of her buoys. And Jas had helped me tamp down all my shit so that I was ready, prepared, to help Alice with hers.

"Hey, Edward?"

"Mmm?"

"Does this seem kinda wrong to you?"

_Yes_,I thought, but knew better than to say it. "How come?"

"I dunno, I mean, shouldn't I be waiting for Dad to come back?"

I physically shuddered at the thought, and on my other side Jas slid his hand back across mine. If he were anyone else, anyone less entrenched in the Masen drama or anyone more judgmental, I would've wanted to hide this conversation from him, to protect Alice from having all her desperate longings for a shitty father overheard, because who in their right mind wouldn't pity that? Jas and I had already covered that, though, eons ago if each month was an age, and when I chanced a glance up his eyes were soft with understanding.

But right now, especially now, I had to be a big brother. Only, in part, to remind her that I would always be one, even after today.

"You know how Charlie is about going by the books. He's just making sure you're taken care of in the mean time."

That was it, all I said, because it was the best compromise of understanding and firm I could come up with. I didn't say anything I wanted to, about how Dad might never come back and I'd rather he'd fuck off instead, because those were words for another time. Not now, not when our entire family – small though it may be – was about to go up on display.

Ali still seemed unsure, though, uneasy in the tiny space she took up next to me, so I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "S'not adoption, you can't get rid of your old brother that easily."

She still didn't look up, stared without focus into the sterile room, but her shoulder nudged more cozily into my armpit. "You're always my brother."

I relaxed around her, just a little more.

Then, the previous defendant in his too-large suit took a seat, the judge called out a number that made Charlie perk up, and I whispered, "Good," into the commotion that followed.

Alice was impossible to hear, even in the cramped room, and Esme was quiet except to confirm her presence. Charlie spoke clearly, calmly, giving the judge the formality and respect he knew he was due and the judge deferred to the Chief of Police's sound judgment easily. In the end, it came down to just a few signatures. Charlie scratched his name out easily and efficiently, while Esme had to strain on the tips of her toes to reach the judge's lacquered desk. Alice, technically, had no say and didn't have to sign anything.

When Alice sat back down, all she said was, "I have to call Seth."

Charlie ushered us all out into the hallway, where Alice and Bella finally had their little pow-wow. Then he tried to start organizing, arranging rides back to school, but when Alice asked if she could go back home he folded immediately.

"Edward," she said, stepping in close beside me. "Did you drive here? Can you take me home?"

I blinked, slowly, just as everyone else did. It was the last thing I was expecting, really, and I felt a rush of regret for letting Esme check us out of school.

Jas spoke up, though, for what was probably the first time. "You wanna gimme the keys? I'll pick you up before track?"

My eyes went to Esme, my own guardian in everything but the eyes of the law, for permission to skip out on the rest of the day so that at least I could spend some more time with Alice, driving or not. There wasn't much more left to attend, and once it was clear she was just waiting on Charlie's permission, I started fishing out the car keys.

Jas let his hand linger, cupped under mine to catch the keys, and I wanted to kiss him right then and there. For being upset for god knows how long and still being the best boyfriend I could hope for when I felt tense as a string tugged from both ends. Instead I just whispered, "Thank you." I could have said it aloud, nothing in that that everyone couldn't hear, but that way he knew it was the intimate kind of thank you, with a meaning only for him.

Charlie dropped us both at his place, making sure Alice had her key in the door before he waved and pulled back out into the street. I waited around in the entryway while Alice sent off a lighting-speed text and said, "I'm gonna go change."

When she came back down she looked like Alice again, except for the obvious wrong color of her eyes and hair. Still, though, she had on jeans, some overly complicated tank/cardigan/jacket combo and her snow boots.

"Going somewhere?"

"Actually," she said, eyeing the grains of the floor instead of me, "when I asked I meant home-home."

It took me a second to really get it because _home_ home didn't usually register for me anymore, but as soon as it did I started thinking of reasons not to go.

She could tell, though, even from the corner of her eye. "I just want to see it, you know? Especially when it's just a few blocks."

"I thought you had to call Seth?"

"I told him you were over. I'll see him after school."

After that, I had no solid arguments left. I swung my backpack onto the kitchen floor and got to work buttoning up my jacket.

The walk was quiet, if cold, and we'd both pulled our hoods up by the time we reached the old house. The planters were still empty and the shutters needed new paint, but given the state of disarray it'd already been in, it hadn't changed much since I'd last seen it. It was weird to think of my old room, just sitting there, lifeless and stale. I didn't want anything it had to offer, the possessions or the memories, and was perfectly happy to write it off as a place I'd stayed in on my way to the Cullen's.

If Dad were in there, right then… I didn't know what I'd do. Slink away, probably, or level him with some monumental stink eye the way only a slighted son could.

Ali, though, she wanted it. Not just Dad, obviously, but the old Dad. The one who used to play This Little Piggy on her toes and taught her how to brush her teeth. Hell, maybe she'd even take the other one – not right after Mom went, and not right before he left, but the interim father. The sober one, the one who stayed up too late in front of the TV and couldn't cook pasta worth a damn, but was still a warm body to curl up against on a couch. Was still a parent, who tried.

If that parent came back, then I really didn't know what I'd do, what side of forgiveness I'd eventually decide on. How much was too much? What if you could be sure the worst was behind you?

Luckily, I didn't have to guess, because Ali's soft question broke the silence. "Think we could get inside?"

"Gave my keys to Jasper," I said, automatically.

"Oh."

I didn't give a shit if there was still a spare taped under the mailbox.

"Think he'll know where to find us?"

"'Course," I said, and then when I saw her too-rapid blinks, I put my arm out like I had in the courtroom.

She stepped under it, again, and we fell back under a hush, toes just barely avoiding the dry patch of grass announcing the Masen home in favor of the swept, public sidewalk. If only Mom could see us now.

"You're not really gonna change your name, are you?"

"Naw," she said, tipping her head into the puffy fabric at my side.

"Good."

When we got back to the Swan's, my car was idling in the driveway. Jas was still in it, but Seth was perched on the front step, obviously immersed in typing out a text on a much older, more cumbersome phone.

"Seth," Alice called out, and he hopped up and towards us in one great lunge.

"Al. I was just texting you."

"Oh," she said, patting down her pockets. "We walked to the old house."

"Oh. Was it…" His eyebrows shot up, halfway through an expression like he was waiting for some cue from her on how to finish it.

She reached him, then, fitting herself under his arm after mine like a monkey swings to tree after tree. "Let's go inside?"

He nodded, and only then looked up at me. "Hey, Edward."

"Hey, Seth. I'll see you later, Ali?"

She nodded. "Yeah. See you at my party."

Jas was waiting for me in the car, and it was an unfamiliar relief to get in when the frost was already gone from the windows.

"Everything go according to plan today?"

I nodded slowly, ruminating over the right answer and realizing that it really had. "Better, actually."

"Good," he said with a genuinely relieved smile before adding, "you know, we could skip." Then he hooked an arm behind my headrest to pull out of the driveway.

I shook my head. "I could use the run. Besides, Coach'll kill us if we're not primed for the Wolves meet."

Jas rolled his eyes. "Understatement."

But that was as far as our conversationalist skills got us before we fell into silence, and Jas flipped the radio on to the station that offered up more of my tastes than his. Polite as a default, just like he was to Mike and even Tyler. Hell, even that squat little grandma-lady who once parked us in at a gas station for forty-five minutes. Forty five! So, all in all, polite wasn't really anything to crow over.

But, I thought as we slowed for a yellow, that was kind of exactly why I loved him. Because even though he was upset, barely in the mood to dish out anything above _polite_ today, he'd still managed to push all that aside when it really mattered. He'd allowed us to fall back into the us that was, the gravity of the day pulling us back to our foundations where there was always a shoulder waiting to be leaned on. And I was so grateful for that alone, those hours of respite, that I couldn't really expect him to keep it up once the danger had passed.

Jas wanted a lot – or, no, he just wanted one thing that felt too big – but with all he'd given for me, I could definitely afford to reciprocate more. That night, I zoned out at dinner to make up my mind, and twirled my pen over my homework while I carefully picked out my words.

When I finally slipped into Jasper's room, knocking softly first like I'd never felt obligated to do before, Esme was just reaching for the door.

She raised an eyebrow after a quick flick of a glance at the clock, and I promised I would head to bed in just a few minutes.

"Alright, sweetie," she said, passing me with a pat on the shoulder.

"Hey," I said into the open room, still lingering in the doorway, and he swung his legs around to the edge of the bed closest to me.

"Hey." He didn't muster up any more energy than I had.

"Can I?"

"Yeah, sure."

He slid over a few feet, leaving me an open spot on the end of the bed. Not that I couldn't have sat countless other places or, hell, on his other side, but it was still nice to have a spot picked out for me. One less thing to fret over.

I stared at my hands as I sat, thinking about how Ali's cuticles were chewed down to the skin today, before swallowing.

"I was thinking, today."

"Yeah." His voice was somber and low, like our conversation was trapped on the bed with us, too soft to carry any farther. "I've been thinking too."

"Oh?" I chanced a look up, and found that we were mirrors of each other; hands in our laps, knees tilted inward just a bit, solid and immobile as if we really were each other's silvery reflections. "Um, okay, I can wait."

I watched his chest fill up with one deep breath. "I think we should come out."

And it was like he'd sucked in all the air for himself, my lungs suddenly felt starved of it. "Umm," I said slowly, feeling the word vibrate in my throat. "Seriously?" How—why—did he really think that was even a possibility right now?

His hands went up in defense immediately. "Edward, just bear with me okay? I really think it'd be okay." I gave him the disbelieving cousin to the stink-eye, and his words ground out even slower, carefully pleading. "I think if we were out, you would look around and see that everything's just fine. Except, there's no way to know if we don't try."

He was pure Jas, all good intentions and thought-out strategies, but even the thought of opening our lives up to the town rumor mill had my teeth grinding. Not now, not so soon. "Jas, I don't think I'm ready for that."

"I know. It's just," his eyes hit his lap, where he was scraping a fingernail across the cottony grain of his pants, before matching my stare. "I don't think you ever will. I mean, I think you're ready, but you'll never think so, and we'll never find out."

"But, why can't we wait for college?"

"'Cause this way, if it goes badly, we'll be leaving anyway. It can be a trial run, built-in escape plan and everything." His shoulders squared with the perk of excitement, the thread of a solid idea. "No one's really had a problem with it, so far, right? And it seems like things are gonna be messier if it just leaks out over time. I want us to take charge of it, to just take that leap."

I mulled his words over, I really did, but even as I could see how in certain situations it was a good idea, I kept coming back to _not now_. Maybe it would work, maybe, but there was no telling, no guarantee. "I don't— I'm not really a leaping kind of guy."

"I know." He smiled at me then, in an uneven, regretful way. "I know, but I'm asking you to think about it. 'Cause this is just… shuffling. And not even really in the right direction."

"Jas, I don't think," I swallowed, and then schooled myself. No. No more wavering. I matched his gaze straight on when I said, "I can't come out."

His eyes were extra-blue, extra-present when he said, "Well, I can't stay in."

The words scrolled through my mind like ticker-tape, once and then again, while I tried to search for the meaning in them. Anxiety flared, sour and sharp in my stomach, and insisted _yes, _it was exactly what it sounded like.

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, suddenly losing his reserved, sure-fire tone. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just telling you what I want."

And that, that right there, was the problem. "Why can't this just be good enough for you?"

"Is it good enough for you?"

"Isn't that exactly what I've been saying?"

His shrug, then, was cruel, a step back from the intimacy of the moment and it burrowed under my skin.

"You say you want this, but you're still leaving yourself a perfect out."

"Jas, I told you—"

"You tell me a lot of things." He sighed. "But, man, I've been getting mixed signals for months." His sharp gestures joined the conversation. "You want to be together, but you don't want anyone to know. You like what we do, but you still think it's wrong. And I know you, when you get worked up over things, you change your mind over and over again. And there's no telling you won't change your mind about me which, just," he trailed off, finally losing steam before adding quietly, "It messes with me, not knowing what to count on."

"Jas. I'm here, right? I know I suck at this," I flopped a hand back and forth between us, "communication thing, but whenever something comes up I always try to fix it."

"I know." His sigh held too much resignation for my liking. "But things keep coming up. I've had more spazzes this year than I have in my whole life."

And, okay, point. That was always the word we used for me, _my_ spaz attacks, and yeah, he hadn't always been the zen to my spaz since we started dating. Like I was contagious or something. But, but…

Without any pretense, he said, "Do you know why I love you?"

"What?"

"You let me be me."

I bobbed a little, mouth open waiting for a bite of something that made sense, but got nothing. He just fidgeted, but the twitch of his shoulders did nothing to distract from how forlorn the droop of his eyes were. Like, somehow, that wasn't a happy thought anymore.

"Everyone else, they want me to be some specific person. I know who I am, okay? I'm nice, and helpful and easy going." Again with the sigh. It sounded less like Jas, the defeat in it, than I'd ever heard, and the words came out with too much burn behind them. "I have to be. Even with my family, it's like, the Jasper mold has been cast. But not with you."

I gaped. It's not like I'd been some counter culture _express yourself_ kind of encouraging boyfriend here. "Jas, I don't…"

"You let me pick the movies."

"What?" I said again, feeling a bit like a record but more like a treadmill was rolling too fast under my feet. Maybe the whole floor was.

"And where we hang out. You don't act all shocked when I don't know the answer to something. And when you ask me to do something, you're actually asking, not telling."

His face was so open, so earnest in the midst of all this side-choosing.

"You do the same for me," I said quietly, dumbly, because I still wasn't sure how this all added up.

"I'm saying, it fucks with my head, when the one person who knows me the best is asking me to lie."

_Oh. _I bowed my head next to him to think. I… got that. I did. If I didn't have the escape of the Cullen's, I didn't know how I would have gotten through those years with my Dad. But it wasn't so much about asking him to change as it was allowing me to stay the same. I liked this, I liked now, and I didn't want to lose it. And if that was what he wanted from me…

"I can't tell if you're giving me an ultimatum, or," or _what?_ I didn't know, because it all sounded like end-of-the-line talk to me.

But he shook his head, shaggy bangs hiding his tight eyes from me. "No. I, I want you. I just want you to let me be me, too."

It stung that the two were so intertwined for him, that being loved equated to coming out, and that without one he couldn't trust the other. It was an action over words thing, I got that, but there had to be _other_ actions, right? This wasn't some magical quest where I had to slay one particular dragon to prove I loved him.

"Would you feel better if we had sex?"

His forehead wrinkled immediately into a full on grimace and then, as if that wasn't enough, he slid even farther away across the edge of the bed. "Jesus, not when you say it like that."

"No, I—" I forced out a sharp sigh. Why did he have to take things the wrong way? "I didn't mean it like that. Just, I've been thinking about it." It was really hard to press on under his intense scrutiny, so I looked away, watching the clock tick away seconds of this stilted conversation. "We want the same thing so, you know, there's nothing holding us back. I'm really not trying to stall us out, or anything."

I twisted my neck back around when I felt him stand up. He, too, had his eyes trained on the far wall, but the set of his jaw telegraphed his answer for him.

"I want to," he said lowly, "I do. But not if I might regret it in the morning." And then he tipped his shoulders back toward me, eyes oddly apologetic. "I'm gonna go to bed now."

Then he walked to the bathroom, pulled the latch shut quietly behind him, and I was alone.

The trek back to my room was oddly long, the juts of doorways casting stark shadows in the hallway, and my sheets were chilly when I pulled back the covers.

I believed that Jas still wanted to be with me, I did, but it didn't seem to matter in the thin light of the next morning. Again, we wanted the same thing, but as we both slipped awkwardly into the lumpy seats of my car, neither of us could think of a thing to say. He flipped to NPR, which I hadn't quite managed to cultivate an appreciation for, and we let the chatter of political strife replace any morning conversation.

I was silent through most of lunch – nothing all that shocking or out of the ordinary – but so was Jas, and when the bell rang he bolted before I even had my lunch bag crumpled up. I watched his retreating back, the bobbing backpack with the little grey patch sewn onto it, the proud gold star on it signifying… nothing, if he didn't believe it did.

I looked down at my own threaded patch, and the pale, empty rectangle had no advice to offer.

Mike hitched his own bag high on his back, keeping up with my pace as we headed to Physics, but when he asked about Jas I had nothing to say.

"Are you guys, you know, cool?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" I said dully.

"Whatever, just saying. You know how Ty gets."

That stopped me in my tracks. His expression was casual, easy, like tried and true best friends having a fight was enough drama for Tyler to latch onto, but it still itched under my collar.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Hey man, I'm not speakin' up."

_It's not like this is new_, I thought bitterly. It felt like it was, it stung like salt water in a fresh wound, but apparently this had been building for a while. Festering. Which is why it was suddenly so big and goddamn ugly out of nowhere.

Jesus, I needed a run. Again.

I let myself fall to the back of the herd – I never was that good at distance anyway – and took advantage of the solitude between school crossing guards and yappy shitzus. My feet slapped the pavement, keeping up with the rhythm of my heartbeat until one sped up and the other fell behind, but it still helped clear my head. It was like meditating except, well, useful.

Not that I came to any useful answers, not really, but I came to some conclusions. Jas wanted me to think about it – _it_, coming out – and a five mile tour of the greater Forks suburbs taught me that I didn't really know what to make of it.

Those things Jas had said about me, about what I was for him, I couldn't really see it. Well, I could, but all I did for him was exactly what he did for me. Less, it seemed, because god knew I'd needed help with some serious shit over the years. Besides, I'd have to be a shitty person to not do those things; shitty boyfriend I might be, but Jas and I were nothing if not kind to each other. We weren't really the best of friends with most people – the list of people who grated on my nerves couldn't even fit down my arm – but I assumed they had other friends they were nicer to. I didn't really see Tyler taking advantage of Eric the way he did with Jas.

And that's when it started to at least make a whiff of sense, when I remembered all the ways people leaned on Jasper's nice-guy personality. Tyler with homework, Eric with running, most of our teachers when they had too many papers to hand back, and even Esme with the extra chores Rosalie routinely put off. Though, Esme got a by because she'd drop her whole world if Jasper needed a hand.

And then there was me, and I leaned on him all the goddamn time. But, like Esme, I was grateful. And, really, it was kind of sad that that alone drew me apart from the rest.

No, I reasoned. And if my reasoning sounded more like Jasper's flavor of logic, that was probably just an awkward side effect of sharing the same covers for so long. It wasn't just that we were grateful, it was that we hung his happiness on a peg level with our own. And it was weird, actually, to think I had anything in common with Jasper's mother, but we both loved him. No fooling on that.

That was where the industrial gym loomed large, and my thoughts were sidetracked by ill-timed sprinklers soaking anyone too aimless to veer a hard right. It was obnoxious timing, too, right when all my thoughts were starting to line up in a neat, orderly fashion for once. I hadn't even gotten to an answer yet, the sum of all the parts I'd finally put on the tally board. And so I passed the showers, noting and trying not to note that I hadn't actually had Jas naked since last weekend and he was right there – right there! – with water sluicing down his bare back.

As I was getting dressed later, and trying to catch the drips from my hair before they fell down my shirt, I checked my phone and saw a text from Ali.

**trying to get ppl to play settlers tonight, u guys wanna come?**

It sounded like a good idea because, one, Ali wanted to hang out, just 'cause? I was definitely there. And two, Jas loved Settlers. He rocked Settlers. The way he devoted himself to all that strategizing and executing extensively planned wins – if the game were a person I'd be jealous.

So I handed the phone to Jas, not really sure I could articulate how casual I didn't feel but wanted to, and expected a glimmer of excitement, a nod even. Instead, he didn't even look sorry when he said, "Got an essay."

"Oh."

He handed the phone back. "You should go though."

I didn't even know why that sounded so wrong, coming from him. Maybe the detachedness, or the idea that I'd just as easily go without him as with. But I did want to and, maybe more than that, I wasn't sure I could spend the evening waiting out the chilly awkwardness while I figured out what the hell I should do next.

So I just nodded, said, "Kay. I'll drop you off first," and spent the walk to the car chastising myself for being so stupidly tactless. Of course I was going to drop him off, the Cullens lived in the frickin' boonies – even for Forks. I always drove him home. But no, I'd just gone and said it, like there was even a chance I'd leave him stranded outside the gym locker rooms all night.

Jas was polite in the worst way, thanking me when I dropped him off and pushing the car door closed with even less force than usual. Then he gave me a tiny, tight smile through the window, obviously trying to be fine, just fine, but it was a hoax and we both knew it. It seemed like the more we tried the worse we got.

All the more reason to go see Alice.

Charlie wasn't home yet, and it was Bella who opened the door. She had a Betty Crocker-ish apron on, and a large, orange water spot on the shoulder of her white shirt.

"Edward, hi," she said, with a bit more excitement than I was really anticipating, but she always was a fiend for board games. And cooking which, judging from the complete lack of protection her apron had offered, might have been the current choose-your-own-adventure in progress.

"Extreme cooking?" I asked.

Bella, then, blushed in that way of hers, and it struck me that it had been more than a while since I'd seen it. I'd almost forgot to expect it.

"Seth's an enthusiastic observer," she said wryly, just as Alice and Seth came into the hall, Alice balancing a soup spoon carefully over her palm. The contents were the same suspicious orange as Bella's shirt.

"Edward. You have to try this."

I nearly rolled my eyes, but it was such a nice change in atmosphere that I grinned instead. "It couldn't wait for me in the kitchen?"

"Dude, you're being greeted at the door with Bella's cooking. That's, like, the royal treatment, so shut up and open your mouth."

I did or, well, tried to, but the hand-off was sloppy and the soup ended up all over the scuffed wood of the entry way instead. Seth laughed and went for a towel, and I found myself leaning over a vat of what I was told was tomato bisque in the kitchen.

Bella was gracious when I told her how good it was, but quickly diverted all attention to the honeycomb board set up on the coffee table. She went over the rules for Seth, who was practically unfamiliar with the game and therefore knew he'd end up with his ass on a platter before the end of the night, but he and Alice looked cozy on the couch and I doubted it was really an issue.

About twenty minutes in, when Seth announced he needed a minute to restrategize, Ali caught my eyes across the table and said, "So, Jasper couldn't make it?"

She feigned nonchalance, but the way Bella's eyes snapped up too gave them away.

"He had an essay."

"Oh."

I fidgeted with my cards.

"Alright guys," Seth broke in, "I gotta pee. Be right back." He patted Alice on the knee, and then slipped past the coffee table and down the hall. His escape was more than obvious, and the girls jumped at the opportunity.

"Edward, what's wrong?" Alice asked, just as Bella said, "He seemed pretty upset."

Oh. "You, uh, talked to him?"

"Just a little." Bella tried to shrug it off. "Just the gist of things, really."

"Okay," I said, and sighed, dropping my stack of cards onto the table and giving up any pretense of playing. Alice looked equal parts concerned and curious, so I figured Bella hadn't passed on all of what Jas had told her. "He wants to come out," I told her in a stage whisper, leaning across the table. "And he's pretty mad that I don't."

Her eyes flicked to Bella, probably to confirm or deny, whose fingers came up to brush at the drying soup stain.

"Maybe more… disappointed?"

"Either way," I said, "he doesn't get why we can't."

"Why can't you?" Alice asked, voice low as a murmur, and I honestly questioned any progress we'd made this week, her siding with him like that, until I saw the matching looks on her and Bella's faces. Stark, patient, curiosity.

"We just… can't." I gestured uselessly. "Do you have any idea what the people here would do if they found out?"

Bella nodded. "Probably the same thing they did when my mom left. Freak out until something better comes along, right?"

A more realistic answer than Jasper's, at least, but still. "I'm not sure what can really top that."

Alice tucked her hands under the thighs, swinging her knees side to side in a movement that suddenly drew too much attention, and blurted out, "Seth doesn't care."

And, really, I should have seen that coming, seen that she would tell him, but it still blanketed my mind in surprise, panic, and, finally, annoyance._ Damnit._

"Alice." I'd been working so damn hard to keep it all a secret, and she went and—

"I didn't tell him!"

I gave her one look that said how much I was buying that.

"I didn't. He just, he asked, and I didn't say no." Her defense came out in a girlish whine. "Not right away, anyway, 'cause I freaked out, and I totally tried to cover it up but he just always knows when I'm lying."

"Alice," I said again, beyond exasperation and still more than a little freaked out. Seth knew, and if he took it back to the res, if he told Jacob, who told his team, who brought it up at the meet…

"He doesn't care," Alice insisted, wringing her hands in her lap.

I snorted. "He can't just not care."

"I dunno," Bella said quietly by my shoulder. Her face was tucked into her shoulder, always the last voice heard, but in the silent bubble that followed she said, "He's probably got other stuff going on, right?"

They shared a look and Alice gave a nod that seemed private, maybe even sad in its brevity. Then she looked back up and said, "I'm really sorry, I am, but I swear he won't tell anyone. Nothing's changed."

Crap. I rubbed a hand briskly over my eyes. "Everything's already changed."

"But change can be good, can't it?" Bella asked, still almost apologetic for speaking up.

"No," I said, cutting down that hopeful look of hers definitively. That was one thing I was absolutely sure of.

A hollow tap of wood pulled us all out of our huddle – I hadn't even realized we were all closed in to whisper over the game – and I tried to distill all my tension through some overly deep breathing when I saw it was Seth.

He, too, looked apologetic, and Alice looked to me before waving him in, but I guessed if he already knew the unspoken secret then there was nothing else I could do anyway. If I was trusting Rosalie's boyfriend, of all people, then I'd better be able to trust Alice's too. _Damnit._

"So," he said, dropping down next to Alice with his arm flung out over her shoulder and trying to look cheerful. "Change is good?"

Could we just drop the damn subject already?

"Hardly."

"Oh." His broad forehead wrinkled as he silently checked in with Alice and said, "I thought…"

I glared. Not at him, really, not even in his direction, just with anger and aggression I was trying to dispel elsewhere. It had already started expanding in my chest, driving the breath from my lungs a little faster, muddying up my thoughts into _no, no, no._

"It's just," he said, backtracking and explaining in a way that just made my teeth grate, "'cause, Alice and I were talking about it earlier, how even the shittiest changes can lead really good places."

"No," I said again, too loudly, but I didn't care. This time my glare was thrown directly at him and that whole atrocious notion. "That's bullshit. That's just some fucked up thing people tell you at funerals when they never liked your mother anyway."

It was only when Bella gasped did I realize what I'd said. _God damnit, _I thought, not wanting to go there. Never, ever there. For a moment all I heard was my forced breathing, my pulse in my throat as the same panic I felt all the damn time now churned in my stomach. And then everyone spoke at once.

Bella reached out, saying, "Edward," while Seth adopted a shadow of the rage that memory carried.

"Someone _said that?_"

But it was Alice's voice that carried above the others', timid and small, directed into her hands. "I remember that."

Seth's attention was immediately on her, hovering and curling around her shoulders. "Someone said that?" he demanded again. "Oh, babe. You didn't tell me that. I'd," his eyes held understanding for just a moment before they lost focus, "I would have fucking punched them if someone said that to me."

And then I remembered, though I shouldn't have ever forgotten, that Seth had lost his Dad. That he'd lived through the bleak horror that was thanking people for their condolences when you just wanted to scream.

"That's fucked up," Seth whispered to Ali, and then looked up at me with much more conviction and, oddly enough, solidarity. Not sympathy, just an acknowledgement of similar paths walked.

"That's fucked up," he said again, confirming it, making it true.

And maybe I should have punched Mrs. Neilson. Maybe I should have just called her out on the bullshit lies she was spewing and told her to leave my family alone. But I was fourteen and grieving and panicking and still trying to come to terms with the phrase, _Nothing will ever be the same again_. One horrific alteration had snowballed into a life completely foreign from the one I knew before. And now, now, I was down two parents, and that fucking Mrs. Neilson lived at the last known forwarding address for my dad because he and her husband were _poker buddies_. Like that somehow trumped family.

Fucker.

"I think," Seth said, still wrapped around Alice but broadcasting his words, unashamed. "I think if someone had tried to turn what happened to my dad into a good thing, I woulda lost it. I woulda thought that anything else changing would be the scariest fuckin' thing on the planet."

Alice tipped her chin up, allowing him to leave a kiss on her forehead, and even as he did she nodded with tiny, muted movements, like the fear of change was just one of many topics they'd tabled, pushed aside but permanently awaiting further discussion.

And maybe, jesus, maybe it was. Maybe it was something Ali still thought about too. We'd never dared mention it to each other, obviously.

"You know," Seth said, finally turning towards me. "If it wasn't for your sister... I mean," he squeezed her shoulders and she tucked herself even tighter under his arm. "I'd do anything to have my dad back, I would. But she's my proof that not all changes are _that_ kind of change, you know?"

And when he said it like that, all curled around the person who made it worthwhile, maybe I did know.

Seth turned back to Alice, then, and Bella started furtively scooping up cards and gamepieces with precise movements and shooting me careful looks.

She was a hugger, I knew, hugged Alice all the damn time, and probably thought a little platonic body contact could cure all the world's evils. I could feel my anger coming down, like a hangover or the throb of stubbed toe dissipating, and eventually I was able to put on a smile for Bella's eagerness. Finally, I rolled my eyes, at her, at the scene I'd managed to cause in the middle of a perfectly normal game night, and she strung her arms around my neck for a quick squeeze.

I was actually saved from responding, from having to have any kind of answer for the intimate revelations I still needed some time alone with, by Charlie's loud entrance.

"Well, hey, the gang's all here," he said, pulling his phone and gun clip from his belt. "Where's Jasper?"

"He had an essay," several of us said, in one form or another, except that he didn't really and everyone knew he was just hiding from me instead.

_Me and..._ I took a deep breath to even think it. _Me and my apparently latent fear of change._

"You stayin' for dinner, Edward?"

I wasn't going to, had no intention to, but Bella immediately began tempting me with promise of tomato bisque and in the end I called Esme to tell her I'd be home later.

"By ten," she said, because it was still a school night, and I almost grinned. The only person I wanted to stay out late with was in her house.

Which, of course, just doubled my mind back to Jasper and the mess we'd gotten ourselves into, and the smile faded as quickly as it'd come.

Sue joined us for dinner, come to pick up Seth, she said, but obviously willing to spend time hip-to-hip beside Charlie washing the dishes afterward.

Bella gave me another hug when I got up to leave, whispering, "I hope you figure stuff out," and Seth gave me a long nod.

As Ali and I walked to the door I told her, "He's okay, your boyfriend."

"I know," she said, like it didn't even need repeating. But then, leaning up to whisper she added, "Actually, I knew he was a good one, 'cause he reminded me of Jasper. Well," she laughed lightly, in that old-Alice way and momentarily it seemed like everything was the way it should be. "Jasper when he's with you. I needed someone who could handle my crazy."

"You callin' me crazy too?" I said, leaning against the front door instead of opening it and she shrugged, but grinned.

"We're just us."

And yeah, I guessed, but Seth had just spelled it all out so neatly for Alice. He'd taken in a new memory, illuminating as it was damning, and understood yet another clip of Alice's choppy background.

"Hey, Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still coming on Saturday, right?"

"Course."

"Do you think, um, that Esme would let Bella and me come over and cook? In the morning? It's just, with the two ovens and all. There's a bunch of people coming, and we've got so much cooking to do."

Ah, Bella and her cooking. I almost snorted, but I couldn't even muster up some surprise that Bella had over-planned for Alice's birthday.

"It's probably fine. Wanna just call Esme? She'll probably say yes."

"Alright," she nodded. And then she surged forward, hugging me around the waist with absolutely no preamble. No offense to Bella, but not all hugs were created equal.

I folded my arms around her and squeezed back before letting myself out. At least… at least in spite of everything with Jasper, Alice and I had managed to take a few steps closer to being family again. I didn't know what I'd do if I was cut off from both of them.

Under the glow of yellow lights filling up the empty passenger seat beside me, then red then green, I thought about what Seth had said. How easily he'd spoken of change, how he managed it despite… despite everything. It was a glaring contrast to how I felt, how even the mention of a fleeting comment from four years ago struck up the same panic that the thought of revealing our secret did. That the idea of change, in any and all of its many forms, felt like being fourteen and lost again.

_Jesus_, I thought, _one bitchy neighbor opens her mouth... _

Still, though, the dots I needed to connect suddenly seemed much closer, like curling a map into a cylinder and finally realizing that Russia and Alaska were practically indecent, they were so close, and not a whole world apart like they'd been drawn. I wanted to show Jasper, to offer up my revelation as some kind of peace pipe that we could sit and share and make amends over.

But when I got home, Jasper's light was already off, and it'd have to wait another day.

* * *

**Please direct any love/hate to your nearest review button :)**


End file.
